Christmas Vacation
by Faran1078
Summary: Continues The Later Years timeline, three months later. The final chapter is up.
1. Andrew's gift idea

The mid December rain hit the windshield as Shannon drove towards the school, the cold grey sky dampening her spirits as much as the rain soaked her car. The little sports car cornered easily as she turned onto the next street. Boone was in a bit of an overworked panic, what with all the Christmas orders, and had sent her to pick Andrew up after school.

In her endeavour to find something constructive to do with her time, she'd started to promote Boone's side business, her results even more successful than either of them could have imagined. She'd gotten him several catering jobs and the word of mouth had spread from there. Though completely untrained, he had a natural flair for cooking, though he preferred baking, and had asked her to focus more on that. He'd even taken a cake decorating course at a local skill sharing workshop.

She was looking forward to Andrew's Christmas vacation time. They'd bonded even more since summer. She'd actually come to enjoy conversing with the boy, so much older than his nine years. Boone had done an amazing job with him while she'd been gone, not that she'd doubted him for a second. He'd raised such a great kid.

She pulled up at the curb in front of the school, only just a few minutes late. He came running out the front door, pelting through the downpour, his yellow slicker standing out against the depressing monochromatic colours caused by the overcast sky.

He pulled the door open. "Hey Shan," he greeted her, sliding into the seat, putting his backpack on the floor between his feet.

"Hey." She responded, checking her mirrors and pulling away. "So how were the huddled masses today?"

"I wish dad'd let them skip me again. I so want out of this place. They're all so juvenile, at lunch today, Pete put pudding in Laura's hair. What's up with that? Why did they all find it so funny? Well all of them except Laura." He shrugged.

"I don't know, bud. We can talk to Boone again if you want, but he seems pretty determined. Even if he does let them move you ahead, it'll still be a couple of years till you can go to high school. Why don't you wait till the end of this year? Maybe when you're ten he'll reconsider. He doesn't do it to be mean; he's just concerned about how different you already are." She didn't really get her brother's objections to fast tracking their son a little quicker, if she was Andrew, she'd want to get out of grade school as quickly as possible as well.

"Yeah, I guess." He allowed. "What'd you get him for Christmas?"

"A new leather jacket, some of those deadly dull non-fiction books he likes to read, oh, and I found one of those vintage Beatles' tee-shirts he loves, I ordered it from e-bay, it should be here any day now. And some new jeans, after last week he's going to need them." She laughed and shook her head at the memory; he was such a clumsy oaf. "What about you?"

"Well…that's what I need to talk to you about." He answered hesitantly. She glanced away from the road for a second, curious. "I got him a snowboard."

The car swerved slightly into the oncoming lane, thankfully there was no opposing traffic. "He'll break his fucking neck, are you nuts?" She pulled the car back between the yellow lines. Just last week she'd been in the kitchen when she'd heard the crash and thud from the hall. She'd rushed out to find Boone lying on the carpet, a small curio table in splinters, all the items it had displayed in pieces around him. She'd idly wondered how old the table had been, almost none of the furniture in the house had been chosen by them, having come with the place when they'd bought it. Her favourite piece was the queen sized sleigh bed in their bedroom. When she'd asked him what had happened he'd just shrugged and said he'd tripped, looking extremely embarrassed. As he'd sat up, she'd picked pieces of potpourri out of his hair.

"Shit." He'd exclaimed looking down at his right calf. The right leg, why was it always the right leg? There was a three inch piece of glass protruding through the denim of his jeans, a blood stain spreading.

"Jesus Christ, Boone." She'd stared at the offending object while he reached down; grimacing as he'd pulled it out.

"Would you get me a towel, please? I don't want to bleed all over the carpet; I'll never be able to get the stain out." He'd asked as he clamped his hand down over the site.

She'd run to the kitchen grabbing a towel and returned to him. While she was gone he'd pulled his pant leg up and had his hand wrapped around his calf, the blood seeping through his fingers. Boone had removed his hand just long enough to press the fabric of the towel against the wound. She'd caught a glimpse of it, a three inch incision, bleeding freely.

"You're going to need stitches in that you know." She'd commented.

"No, no fucking way. I am not going to a hospital. You'll just have to tape it up for me." He'd dismissed her observation, knowing full well that she was right, but still unwilling to seek medical attention. He didn't trust any doctors except Jack anyway, once a guy brought you back from the dead, you tended to have faith in him.

She'd managed to tape it up pulling the sides of the wound together, eventually stopping the bleeding. He'd cursed about the ruined pants; they'd been his favourites, before clearing up the mess he'd caused.

"He's not that bad. And I figured if he took lessons he'd get it down pretty quick. He's great at following instructions, and you know what a perfectionist he is." Andrew jumped to Boone's defence.

"I guess," Shannon answered, still more than a bit skeptical. "So why'd you want to talk to me about it? Wait, where the hell's he gonna go snowboarding around here?"

"Well, that's the part I needed you for. I figured we could all go away on a ski vacation." He threw the idea out.

"There's no way we're going to get him to go away now, he's up to his ass in baking." She'd woken at 3 a.m. last night to find herself in bed alone and had padded down the back stairs looking for him. She'd found Boone in the commercial kitchen, dressed only in a tee-shirt and boxers, sneakers on his bare feet, slicing apples, spice bottles opened, one of them overturned, the industrial mixer churning out yet another batch of pie crust. He'd started browning some ground meat for tortieres, and had pie pans lined up on a side counter. She'd taken a deep breath in exasperation and had turned everything off, pulling him, protesting all the way, back to bed. She'd snuggled up against him, burying her nose in the cinnamon scented strands of his hair.

"No, I didn't mean for Christmas vacation. I know there's no way I'd get him out of the kitchen just now. I figured we would go for March break." He clarified.

Shannon smiled at the idea. She hadn't been skiing in years, the last time had been three years ago in St. Moritz, and she wasn't sure Boone _ever_ had, she tried to remember if there'd ever been a school trip to Tahoe that he'd gone on.

"I like it." She nodded in agreement. "You're a smart kid, great idea. So you need me why?"

"I've got everything prearranged on the web, but I need a credit card number, and I only have Boone's. He doesn't think I need my own separate account, I've got a card, but it's still his account. I don't want it to appear on one of his statements, you know how he logs on and checks them every day. Do you have one that he's not going to look at till after Christmas?" Andrew asked hopefully.

"I think I can arrange something. Where were you planning on taking us?" Shannon was amused that her nine-year old son was planning a family vacation. She knew he had the money for it, he was as careful with a dollar as Boone was.

"Aspen." He provided tentatively.

"Aspen?" Shannon laughed that it was both so close and still far enough away that they'd have to fly. "You're going to get Boone on a plane for a vacation?" He'd never had a problem with flying before the crash, but having seen his reaction to having to fly to Pittsburgh this past summer, she knew he had one now. She'd never actually been on a plane with him since the crash, but could easily picture the total spaz attack he probably pitched. "Okay, kiddo, let's deal. I do this for you and you get to sit next to him on the flight. I'd rather it be your arm he crushes than mine."

"Deal." Andrew spat in his palm and held his hand out for her to shake. It was a private joke they shared, Boone would have had a fit if he knew they did something he'd find so gross and disgusting. She took her right hand off the wheel, spit in it as well, and shook on it.

Returning home, they found Boone sitting at the kitchen table holding his head in his hands, the phone and a pad of paper on the table in front of him.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" She kissed him. Andrew just looked concernedly at his father, he'd gotten used to how intimate they were with each other; it didn't skeeve him out at all anymore when they kissed or caressed each other in front of him. Actually he found it somewhat reassuring, it was kind of cool having two parents again after all the years alone with just Boone, their obvious love for one another encouraging his fervent hope that she wasn't going to disappear again, and send his father back off the deep end.

"Four dozen, they want four dozen more, what am I going to do? I can barely keep up as it is, stupid church sales, stupid Christmas, whatever happened to people doing their own baking?" Boone cried.

"Boone, is the word "No" simply not in your vocabulary? Christ you're a patsy." She shook her head.

"Well you'd know all about that now wouldn't you?" He shot back bitterly, still absorbed in his dilemma.

"Jesus, that was ten years ago, move on, get over yourself." Shannon dismissed his attempt to dredge up the past.

"Boone, why not just hire some help?" Andrew asked his dad, it seemed like the perfect solution. And it meant that Boone would finally jet back a little, he always got so overstressed before the holidays.

"I just might have to. God, but I don't want other people messing around in my kitchen." He sighed.

After Andrew went to bed that night, she came back down to the kitchen, finding him sitting in the same chair he'd been in that afternoon, he'd turned it sideways to the table, obviously deep in thought.

Shannon watched him for a bit, just taking in the line of his jaw, his hair curling around his ear, the slight flush of his cheeks. "Boone?"

"Hmmmm?" he continued to stare into space.

"I love you, you know." She moved to stand in front of him, as he frowned up at her.

"I know that." He smiled. "Where's this coming from?"

"I just don't think I say it enough." Shannon reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.

"They're only words, anyone can say them, but I know you really mean them though, I feel it every minute of every day." He closed his eyes briefly and ghosted his mind across hers, sharing his own love for her with her. She shuddered at the depth of it.

"Come here," Boone pulled her into his lap. She sat down straddling him, and kissed him, circling her arms around him neck. "So, Jacques Pepin, what have you decided?"

"I called Terry, to see if he can work some time in around school hours, he's coming in tomorrow afternoon. I'll have to see if I can work with him. I would have called Shelly, but I figured I'd get along better with a guy than a chick." He didn't look happy about having to ask for help, he hated appearing dependent.

She wasn't sure about his logic there; he wasn't exactly the most macho guy, and it _was_ baking, she'd just assumed he go for a female assistant. "It'll work out, but hon, you have to start saying no if it's too much. I know how much you don't want to disappoint people, but there's only so much Boone Carlyle to go around, and I want as much of it as I can get, in fact, I think right now," she started working her hips against him, "I'd like one hundred percent."

"I have more work to do." Boone protested.

"Yes, you do," she slid her hand down between them.

"Shannon, stop." His eye lids fluttered, threatening to close, as her hand brushed over the zipper of his jeans.

"Okay," she moved to get off him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her in tighter, rising from the chair and carrying her up the back stairs, her ankles linked behind his back.


	2. Andrew's confession

They were heading into the city to a Christmas party at Claire and Charlie's. Boone had filled the trunk of his car with baked goods he'd made to give as gifts to their friends, as well as stuff for the party, Claire hadn't asked him to cater the event, he'd just automatically offered, their overnight bags were crammed into the small corner of trunk space that was left.

They both reached for the keys to the car at the same time, their hands colliding. "What do you think you're doing?" Boone frowned at her.

"I'm driving." Shannon informed him.

"Uh, _no,_" he gave her look.

"Uh, _yes,_" she imitated his tone and look.

Andrew was starting to become highly amused. Who needed TV when they had these two?

Shannon glanced down at his shirt, she'd noticed earlier that he'd missed a button; the thing was all screwed up. "When did you learn to dress yourself?" The question appearing to come out of left field.

"What?" He frowned.

"Boone you're so tired, you haven't even done your shirt up properly, and you're a _total_ fashion victim." It was so unlike him, he was so meticulous. "Didn't you even notice that the collar's all fucked up and lopsided?" She explained her seemingly random question.

The thing with Terry helping out with the baking was working out well. Shannon wondered why Boone had thought that it wouldn't; he could be so obstinate sometimes. He'd always delegated easily, you had to when you were organizing a high profile wedding for several hundred guests, so she was mystified as to why he'd been so reluctant to ask for help. Maybe it was because the cooking was so much more personal to him than someone else's nuptials. She knew how exhausted he'd been letting himself get, the slight mishaps had become almost a daily occurrence, a broken glass at breakfast, the shirt just now, the tripping last week, though when he'd put the phone in the oven it had made her laugh. She knew he'd gotten up at four that morning, what she didn't know was that he hadn't come to bed 'til well after one. In order to get him to agree to go to the party at all, she'd had to capitulate on his getting out of bed at such an early hour.

"I was in a hurry," he answered lamely looking down in surprise, he couldn't even remember putting the thing on, and why had he chosen the one with the red stripes? Heather had given him that one, and the colour did nasty things to his complexion, with his naturally flushed cheeks making him look like he'd just downed a fifth of Johnnie Walker Blue.

"Whatever," Shannon dismissed his answer, not believing him for a second. "I. Am. Driving." She stressed each word.

They started a round of No/Yes, sounding like kindergartners arguing over a colour of pavement chalk for their hopscotch game at recess, until Andrew tired of their bickering. "Boone." He interrupted, kind of disappointed at stopping them, wondering just how long they could have gone on. His guess was pretty much indefinitely.

They'd both forgotten he was even standing there, and looked at him a little startled. "I'm not getting in the car if you're going to drive." He informed his father calmly.

"Huh?" Was every one against him?

"I've seen you like this before. You're like Dead Zombie Boone, all zoned out, but still mobile. It's always like this before Christmas, you get in too deep, make too many commitments, then you panic, then you go for like forty-eight hours straight with no sleep working like you're trying to negotiate some kind of world saving peace accord. Then we're sitting in front of the TV for like the five whole minutes I can actually _get_ you to sit down, and suddenly you pass out cold right in the middle of a sentence. I'd _like_ to live to see ten, and if you pull a stunt like that while you're driving a law abiding sixty-five down the highway, I don't see that happening." Andrew shrugged, making his position on the matter very clear.

"You're the devil's spawn aren't you?" Boone shook his head at him. Now it was Shannon's turn to be amused.

"You guys can decide that amongst yourselves, after all, you're my parents." He pushed his luck a little farther, one day his smart mouth was going to get him in trouble.

Shannon snatched the keys off the keyboard and headed for the door, the other two following in her wake.

Out on the driveway she turned to her husband. "Will you sleep if you lie down in the back?"

"Enough already, I already agreed to let you drive, I'm not lying down in the back, I'm not six." Boone protested.

"Andrew, get in the passenger seat." Shannon instructed.

Okay, this wasn't like TV, this was better; more like the circus, when were the clowns going to show up? He wondered, moving to the passenger door and opening it.

"I'm not sitting in the back seat of my own car!" Andrew waited to see if Boone would actually stamp his foot.

"Well the passenger seat's taken, and I'm driving, so I'd have to say that you are." Shannon answered smugly.

"I hate you." Okay the kindergartners were making reappearance; Andrew looked on in anticipation of act three.

"Just think of how much more you can hate me after you've had a nap. I'd hate to have you waste all that negative energy on only a half-hearted attempt." Shannon was maddeningly calm.

"Fucking bitch, fucking bitch," Boone muttered pulling open the back door.

She walked around the vehicle, sliding behind the wheel. They were exactly the same height, another thing which pissed Boone off to no end, so she didn't have to bother adjusting the seat. She started the car; then glanced in the rear view. He was sitting in the middle of the back seat, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at her. "Boone, you're not sitting in the back seat so you can glare at me over my shoulder. Lie down and go to sleep."

"Fucking bitch." He kept up his litany, pulling off his jacket, balling it up and putting it on the seat behind Andrew, using it as a pillow as he brought his legs up and settled down on his side.

Shannon turned to him over the seat as he crossed his arms over his chest again, and looked at her furiously. "Now did you go to the bathroom before we left the house, 'cause I don't want to have to stop?"

Andrew lost it, snorting laughter, as Boone gave her one last "Fucking bitch."

She pulled out of the driveway, and, at the first stop sign, no further down the road than a mile, she glanced back over her shoulder at him, he was out cold.

By the time she got to the turn off to the highway, she could have hit Boone over the head with a brick and he wouldn't have responded. Once he decided he was ready to go to sleep, it was like someone had flipped a switch. Stopped at the traffic light she turned again to look back at him. His right hand was lying on the seat, up beside his head, palm up, his fingers curled and relaxed, his left pressed between his knees. He was so precious and innocent looking, until she took in the vertical scars on his exposed wrist, and remembered.

Andrew fiddled with the radio dial, tuning it to his favourite station, but keeping the volume low, not wanting to disturb Boone. He'd been trying to decide if he was going to tell them what he knew, he'd never kept secrets from Boone and didn't want to start now, with Shannon back, it almost seemed like that was even more important now than before. He'd gotten the confirmation of what he'd always suspected, several months ago, still he knew he'd broken a major house rule in acquiring the information, and wanted to avoid the shit storm that was sure to follow.

He swallowed before he began. 'Shan?' he started their silent conversation.

'You've done something wrong, haven't you?' She kept her eyes on the road.

'Yeah,' he paused. 'After you came back, the first few days, I listened in when you guys were talking in the bedroom.' He reluctantly admitted his transgression.

'You've got an agreement not to do that.' She frantically thought back to her first few days. Oh fuck, she thought, they'd rehashed pretty much everything, more concerned about what he'd learned than the fact that he'd broken his word.

'I know.' He admitted, ashamed. 'I'm still just a kid. I was scared; you don't know what it was like for me. I didn't even remember you, I just knew what your leaving did to Boone.'

'So, what're we talking about here?' She was starting to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

'Sydney,' even in his mind, whispering the word.

'What about Sydney?' she already knew the answer.

'I know I was an accident, that what you guys did should never have happened.' Andrew he bit his lip waiting for her reaction. 'I know you guys love me, I can feel it, but it doesn't change the fact that I was an accident.'

'Baby, you don't know. We were so screwed up.' Why was he doing this now? Shannon just wanted to pull over and bury her head in her hands.

Boone started whimpering in the back seat.

What the hell was she going to say? 'Andrew Adam Carlyle, you're our son. You'll always be that. And you're right, we love you, however you came to be, we love you. I can't believe sometimes how badly I screwed up, because, ultimately it _was_ all my fault, I conned him into coming to Sydney, I seduced him." Shannon took all the blame on herself, because, really it was hers, she knew how vulnerable Boone had been, that it wouldn't take much on her part to get him into bed, she'd just wanted a feeling of control again, after Brian had screwed her over, taking the money. "But I wouldn't change anything for the world. God, you're amazing. I love you so much. I love you both. Maybe fucking up can sometimes result in something positive."

She recalled an incident from when they were growing up when Sabrina had angrily informed Boone that he'd been an accident and that she was sorry he'd ever been born. She couldn't remember exactly what it was he'd done, probably something minor like get a fingerprint on the wall, Sabrina hadn't actually slapped him that time, but the emotional blow she'd landed was much, much worse. He'd just stood there hanging his head, quietly absorbing yet another little jibe from his mother. Andrew may have been an accident, but Shannon had never once been sorry about it, and she'd been sorry about a lot, she'd done a lot to be sorry for she thought ruefully.

She looked up to share that with him, but could tell by his smile that he'd already picked it out of her head. 'So, why are you telling me, and not Boone, or both of us together?'

"No," Boone moaned.

'Are you kidding me?' he exclaimed. 'He's a mess. If I told him this, instead of being mad that I'd broken the rules, he'd have had something like a nuclear meltdown that I knew the truth. He's in the middle of a huge depression right now. He tries to hide it, but I know the signs.'

'He's depressed?' Shannon shot him a surprised look. 'I thought he was just overworked and stressed.' Andrew shook his head at her.

'Has he gotten depressed a lot since I came back?'

'A few times, less than before though, he's a lot better with you around.' _That_ was putting it mildly.

She hadn't even realized, she'd have to talk to him about that. It wasn't good that he was hiding things from her.

"Shan?" Boone moaned, whimpering a little.

Shit, she'd hoped he'd sleep all the way to Claire's, why was he awake? "Yeah?" She answered, glancing over her shoulder at him, seeing that he was still sleeping. He'd drawn his knees right up and was lying in the fetal position. His face was twitching, he was frowning, caught up in whatever nightmare he seemed to be having.

Andrew undid his seat belt and turned around, kneeling on the seat. 'He's dreaming about…'

'Don't you even _think_ about doing what you were planning,' she warned him.

'But he's not in his bedroom.' He protested.

'Given that you've already admitted to breaking _that_ particular rule, I'd be a little careful if I was you. Stay out of his head when he's sleeping. And mine,' she added.

He looked ashamed.

'Did you read him before I stopped you?' Shannon asked.

He shook his head.

Boone started making sad crying noises, muttering her name.

'Wake him up.' She was becoming concerned, he was so exhausted, she was surprised his mind had the energy to conjure up the obviously intense experience he was having.

'He's calling for you, I think you should do it.' Andrew turned back around on the seat.

'I'm driving here,' she pointed out the obvious.

'Then pull over,' he suggested.

She swung the car over to the shoulder and stopped, getting out and coming over to the passenger side; opening the back door. Shannon leaned over him and shook his shoulder gently, "Boone, honey, wake up."

He whimpered again.

"Boone," she said more forcefully.

His eyes flew open, he started hyperventilating, staring at the back of the seat.

"Boone," he was scaring her.

He sat up in the seat, staring at her in disbelief, "Shan?" he said it as if he couldn't fathom why she was standing in front of him. He was out of the car in a flash, holding her and shaking. "You're here, oh Jesus, I was dreaming you were gone again." She could feel him start to heave. He pushed away from her and turned, lurching down the road a few feet before throwing up on the pavement, his emotions completely overwhelming him, he supported himself weakly with his hands on his knees. She went to him and stroked his back, calming him. Once he'd quieted down a bit they walked back to the car.

Andrew opened his window and handed his father a bottle of water, sadly used to this reaction from Boone.

"Sorry," after he'd rinsed his mouth, he apologized to them both. They brushed it off as unnecessary. He sat on the guardrail and tried to compose himself, still staring at Shannon like she was an apparition that was going to disappear as surely as Marley's ghost.

She asked him if he wanted to go home, but he declined, pointing out that they were only half an hour from their destination, and that he had most of the food for the party in the trunk. "Besides, it was only a bad dream, I'm okay now."

"A dream so bad you threw up? You're not," she paused, then rushed on, "going to have another nervous breakdown are you?"

"Jesus, I sure as hell hope not, one a lifetime's more than enough. It was just a bad dream." Boone repeated.

"Andrew told me you're depressed." Shannon wasn't convinced he was as okay as he claimed.

He looked up at his son, startled. "You knew?"

"Boone, don't you think after all this time, that I'd know?" God, Boone could be a dunce sometimes.

A transport truck roared by, shaking them all. "I suggest that we take this discussion on the road." Boone stood, sighing. "And I'm driving."

They played musical chairs, each switching seats before he pulled back onto the highway.


	3. The Party

He'd just finished setting up the buffet table. He'd given a lot of thought to what he wanted to serve. Though probably no one but him still followed Jack's food rules, he'd kept them in mind when planning the menu; in fact they formed the basis for all of his dishes, both for his own family and in the catering business. The health and fitness craze that started around 2000 had grown and so there was an ever expanding market for healthy, nutritious, but good tasting and well presented food. Even people who weren't into that were always surprised when he delivered something superior to an old high fat dish, only to be told, after sampling, exactly what guidelines he'd followed when making the thing. The whole wheat vegetarian and turkey lasagnes that he was going to put out later were going to go over well, he hoped. There were also some fancy cut sandwiches, hors d'oeuvres and salads; nothing that couldn't be eaten with just a fork or your fingers. Balancing a plate on your knees while trying to cut through chicken parmegiana, never went well with expensively upholstered living room furniture. At least he knew _he'd_ pitch a fit if someone lost the battle to keep their food on the plate while trying to saw through it with a knife, and got marinara sauce on _his_ couch.

He stepped back to survey the finished display, very pleased with the results, almost reaching out to snag an asparagus and Swiss cheese canapé, but stopping at the last minute, not wanting to disturb the symmetry of his arrangement. Sawyer reached past him to grab a handful of sandwiches.

Predictably, he'd had shown up hours before the party was to start, not to offer to help, of course, but just to see what he could mooch.

"Looks good, Metro, bet your husband's real proud 'a his wife's cookin'." He smiled at Boone, smugly, and popped a sandwich into his mouth, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Asshole," Boone muttered as Sawyer turned and walked away. He rearranged the sandwich platter and stepped back again.

Shannon came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Another magnificent effort Mr. Carlyle, you'll just _have_ to do my next party." She affected a snobbish sounding accent.

He turned in her embrace and smiled. "I really, really like doing this Shan." He said with boyish enthusiasm.

"I know you do Boone," she acknowledged, laughing at his excitement. "Now, are you finally going to get dressed for the party?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He looked down at the now correctly buttoned shirt, and jeans.

"Boone," she said in an exasperated tone, "even _Sawyer's_ wearing a suit, and we didn't bring yours all this way just so it could hang in a closet.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Alright," he kissed her and headed up the stairs.

Most of the guests had arrived by the time he'd showered and changed. Shannon caught sight of him coming down the stairs dressed in a black suit and tie, with a white shirt. It was the first time since coming back, and the first time in almost seven years, that she'd seen him dressed up, it always took her breath away at how effortlessly elegant and handsome he looked. He crossed the room towards her, smirking a little shyly at the look in her eye, she reached up and straightened his tie, he never could get the damn thing centred.

It was great being among their friends again, it was just the immediate group, and their significant others, no outsiders or kids, Andrew being the only exception, and that was to keep Claire's kids company and because the Carlyle's were staying overnight. They only got together rarely and preferred to focus all their energy on catching up, without having to make sure little Johnny or Sally behaved themselves, or the girl or boyfriend of the week didn't wonder why Sun could cure Charlie's headache just by pressing her fingers to his temple, that Michael was having a mostly one sided conversation with Hurley, or Claire was telling Jin what he'd be doing next year. The alternative being that all of them had to keep themselves in check in order to appear strictly normal, no island bestowed abilities in evidence.

Sawyer kept asking Jack's wife to dance. Jack had married Kate Madison about three years after getting back. He'd been more than a little cautious, what with his first marriage ending in divorce, and the tragedy with the first Kate, on the island. They had a daughter, Jessica, she was five; Shannon was looking forward to seeing the little girl for the first time when they went to visit in the New Year.

Kate knew that Sawyer was only dancing with her to needle Jack, but she wasn't the slightest less immune to his southern charm than any one of his mark's had been, and so accepted happily each time. Jack was pretty cool with it at first, just shaking his head and chalking it up to their unwritten, long-lasting competition with each other, but as the party progressed, Sawyer kept taking more and more liberties with Kate, his hands moving lower and lower each time they took to the floor, progressing from her shoulders to her waist as they swayed in time to the music. Finally Jack had had enough and cut in, predictably there was a bit of a disagreement, but Shannon stepped in before it could get ugly, pulling Sawyer away and resting her head on his shoulder as she slid one of his arms around her waist and fumbled the other one into hers, guiding him into the proper dance steps.

Now it was Boone's turn to shake his head, narrowing his eyes at the lascivious look of triumph in Sawyer's eyes as he pulled "Sticks" closer against him; the man had always had the hots for her. He turned to go into the kitchen for another food run, knowing full well that his sister was more than capable of keeping Sawyer, _and_ his hands, in their proper place.

Claire watched through the evening as her husband became increasingly more inebriated. He may have given up the heroin, but he was still an addict, and tonight his stimulant of choice was scotch. Charlie was standing now, weaving a bit unsteadily, with Walt and his fiancée Svetlana, she was a pretty blonde girl, athletic looking, they were planning on becoming an eco-tour guide team when they graduated, Walt specializing in animals, and Svetlana in plants. Charlie was drunkenly miming some kind of activity. Suddenly he turned from them and jumped on Sawyers back as he passed on his way to the buffet, she realized that he'd used the same movements he'd been demonstrating to them. Sawyer wasn't exactly sober either, and the weight of Charlie on his back sent him staggering forward, he fell, face first, on the table, sending it crashing to the carpet.

"Fuckin' dick head, get the hell off me, you asshole!" Sawyer started yelling, Charlie was trying to scramble to his feet, but kept getting them caught in Sawyers legs. It looked like an old silent Keystone Cops movie, only this one was hardly silent as Sawyer continued to swear loudly. Everyone rushed forward to help.

Shannon glanced over at Boone. He was staring at the broken table and spilled food in horror. Aw shit no, she headed over to him, "Boone, _do not_ tell me you're going to fucking well cry." The way he'd been acting lately, anything was possible.

He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders started shaking. Jesus, he was such a mess, she sighed. She suddenly realized that he wasn't crying, he was actually laughing uncontrollably. He raised his head; there were tears in his eyes he was laughing so hard.

Sawyer had finally shucked Charlie off his back, and stormed past the two of them standing in the doorway leading to the stairs. "Laugh it up, Chuckles," he shot at Boone and elbowed him hard into the wall, continuing on his way. Boone bounced back against the wall, smashing his head, and collapsed to a sitting position, falling hard on his ass. The laughter cut off as suddenly as it had started, replaced by a look of fury in his eye.

He scrambled to his feet, his face contorted in anger. Shannon stepped in front of him as he attempted to follow Sawyer. "Boone, just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"He's pushed me around for the last time." His cheeks were bright red, his breathing, fast.

"He's twice your size, you idiot, and he's already proven he can beat the snot out of you." She continued to hold him back. "Boone, he's not mad at _you_, he's just embarrassed, and mad at the whole situation. Don't take it personally." Shannon tried to reason with him.

He looked up at her. "I'm tired of it, Shan, I'm tired of it." Some of the fight seemed to go out of him, "I'm tired, so tired." His shoulders slumped.

She wasn't sure if he was still talking about Sawyer, or his own physical and mental state. Jesus his mood was mercurial tonight, he'd gone from amusement to fury to resignation in the space of two minutes; it wasn't like him at all.

"Boone, just take a breather, calm down, okay?" She caught his eye and smiled. "Why don't you go in the kitchen and get some more food to bring out? The table was pretty empty anyway, really, not that much got wasted. Please?" He nodded, kissed her, and headed from the room.

She took the opportunity of his temporary absence to go talk to Jack about him.

After listening to Shannon and her concerns about her brother, Jack had to agree that they were valid, and went out to the kitchen to talk to him. "Hey," he greeted Boone.

The younger man smiled at him in greeting, continuing to package up the leftovers.

"You doing okay?" Jack asked.

Boone frowned, trying to get a sense of where this was coming from, "Yeah."

"Because Shannon says you had a pretty bad nightmare on the way over here this afternoon." Jack put the information on the table.

"She shouldn't have said anything," he sighed and shook his head, "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, you look tired." Jack observed.

"I've just got a lot of shit going on. It's busy working two full time jobs." While the store pretty much took care of itself, what with Joan being so incredibly capable, there was still a lot of behind the scenes stuff to do, along with the catering.

"Why are you even working two jobs? It's not like you need the money." Jack inquired.

"I don't know," Boone shrugged, "I like being busy."

"Boone, there's busy, and then there's burned out. I'm going to guess you're closer to the later." Jack gave his opinion.

"What?" he frowned.

"Why'd you come in here?" Jack didn't think Boone had any conscious memory of the true reason.

"Uh," he glanced around, suddenly unsure, "I was going to clean up?" he unintentionally made it a question.

Jack shook his head, "No Boone, you were going to bring out some more food. Sawyer, Charlie, the table?" Jack prompted.

"Yeah, I was just….uhm, getting some ready." He lied badly, Christ how had he forgotten?

"Boone, go to bed." Jack looked at him flatly.

"Just 'cause I gapped why I came in here's no reason to try to send me to bed like an eight year old." Boone protested a bit petulantly, managing to sound exactly like one.

You've been acting it, Jack thought, given Shannon's description of his antics during the past couple of weeks. "Boone," Jack started patiently, "you've been trying to put the same round lid on the square Tupperware container since we started talking."

He looked down in alarm, suddenly realizing he'd been doing exactly that.

"Look, I don't want to scare you, but you're going to end up back in the hospital if you don't take care of yourself." Jack reached out and gently took the container away from him. "Maybe you should go back to seeing someone once a week." He suggested.

"No," he almost appeared as if he was going to break down right this very second.

"Boone," Jack put the container down, and reached out to grab Boone's shoulders. "Stop, just calm down and stop."

Boone looked up at him, apprehension in his eyes, "I can't, Jack. I can't go back there, how did I get so out of control? Damn."

"How much sleep _have_ you gotten in the past week?" Jack realized, surprised, that Boone looked older than his thirty-two years, fatigue dragging down the corners of his eyes.

He thought about lying, but figured there wasn't any point. "I don't know, maybe fourteen, fifteen hours." He guessed at two hours a night.

"Boone, go to bed," Jack repeated, "Now."

Jack's warning that he'd end up back under psychiatric care had scared him, "Okay, I'll just go say goodnight to every one."

"No, Boone, you won't," Jack corrected him. He just didn't want him to go back to the party and start talking to someone again, or notice a glass without a coaster sitting on a wooden table and start obsessing about the ring it was going to leave, and how he was going to have to get it out the next day, even though this wasn't even his house.

"You're not in charge any more, Jack; I don't have to do what you say." Boone responded, once again sounding childish, he might as well have said "You're not the boss of me," like some rebellious adolescent.

"Boone. Bed. Now," Jack's tone changed completely, he was using his old _leader_ voice the one that always got everyone to respond without question, if Boone was going to act like a kid, he was going to treat him like one.

Boone smiled as he notice the change, "Yes, sir." He gave in. "Thanks, Jack, sorry man; I feel bad Shan had to drag you into this, that I made her feel she had to go to you." Jack shrugged it off, if it got Boone to realize he was headed down a potentially disastrous path, it was worth it. Boone hugged him before heading up the back stairs.

He checked on the kids before turning in, still resisting Jack's orders to go straight to bed, asserting a little independence. Sarah was sound asleep in her room, tucked into bed, and, in his room in one of the twin beds, Aaron was as well, Andrew however, had fallen asleep at the computer console; he picked his son up and carried him to the other bed, pulling the covers up to his chin, then shutting the gaming system down.

He sat down on the side of the bed in the guest room, bending down to undo his shoe laces. When he woke up ten minutes later, he realized just how much Jack and Shannon were right about his lack of sleep. He sat up and pushed his shoes off, taking off the rest of his clothes and hanging them up carefully. He slid under the eiderdown duvet, and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.


	4. Boone's decision

He was sound asleep when Shannon slipped under the duvet, happy to see that he was still sleeping. Jack had sent him to bed around midnight, it was well after three now, she figured it was the longest period of uninterrupted sleep he'd had in weeks. She snuggled up to him carefully, not wanting to wake him, but it was as if his body reacted automatically simply to the fact of her closeness. His eye lids fluttered briefly before opening slowly, he smiled at her sleepily and pulled her in for a kiss.

'Sleep, Boone,' she instructed, kissing him, then pulling away.

'I'll get enough sleep when I'm dead,' he responded, still half out of it.

She frowned at him, 'That was a pretty inappropriate comment for _you_ to make.'

'Sorry,' he apologized.

'You think?' she retorted, sarcastically.

'Apparently not before I speak,' he shrugged, turning on his side to face her, all immediate thought of sleep gone as his hand trailed down the smoothness of her skin.

What the hell, Shannon thought, he was already awake, and she _did_ want him, but then again she reflected; when _didn't_ she?

They made love quietly; Claire smiled at the sounds coming from behind the closed door to their room, as she passed it on her way to bed. At least they were getting some, she thought ruefully, knowing that her own husband would be completely unconscious, sleeping off the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed.

Boone padded quietly down the back stairs. He'd woken just a while ago, a little groggy at the unaccustomed amount of sleep he'd gotten. Checking the clock on the kitchen wall, he wasn't surprised to see that it was after nine a.m. He'd gotten carefully out of bed, not wanting to wake Shannon, and after washing his face and hands and brushing his teeth, had headed downstairs.

Someone had finished cleaning up the kitchen for him, probably Jack and Kate, he thought. He headed out to the dining room to see how bad the damage was from the trashed buffet table, but stopped as he crossed the living room. Sawyer was passed out cold on the couch, an empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table. Boone briefly considered getting a bucket of water and putting the guy's hand in it in retaliation for the hit last night, but figured he'd been acting childish enough in his fatigued state over the past few weeks without resorting to stupid frat boy pranks, besides if Sawyer peed all over Claire's couch it was Boone who'd be feeling the worst. Shannon had probably been right anyway, Sawyer had been more pissed off at the situation than at Boone himself. He pulled a blanket off the back of a chair and draped it over him.

In the dining room he was relieved to see that there was actually no evidence at all of the mishap, and headed back to the kitchen.

He put the kettle on the stove and stuck his head in the fridge, pulling various items out and setting them on the counter. Boone was standing at the counter, dressed in a t-shirt and some plaid flannel lounge pants, when she came quietly down the back stairs a while later, his hair was sticking up everywhere, though given its usual style, it didn't really look all that different.

"I just poured your tea," he informed her without turning.

Claire looked to the side counter, her steaming mug stood beside a plate holding two of his homemade peanut butter cookies. She smiled in appreciation, crossing the room to wrap her arms around his waist, standing on her tiptoes to kiss the side of his neck.

"What're you making?" she leaned to peer around him.

"Huevos Rancheros, I know they're Charlie's favourite." He provided.

"They are when you make them, when I do, not so much." She laughed.

"I made a jug of Bloody Mary's, it's on the table," He pointed with the knife at the jug, a little Ziploc of ice cubes floating in it, " and there's some fresh squeezed orange juice and a bottle of champagne in the fridge. I couldn't find the jalapenos for the eggs, though."

She pulled away from him and opened the fridge, reaching behind the pound of butter in the door, retrieving the elusive peppers. He looked at her, mystified, "I hid them for you; if Charlie had found them he would have eaten them."

She sipped from her mug and took a bite of one of the cookies, before putting voice to her concern, "You doing okay?"

Oh Christ, he thought, what is this a broken record? Hadn't he already been through this with Jack the night before? He took a deep breath, pushing down his irritation before responding, "I'm fine." Then he started worrying, "You said Shannon wasn't going to go anywhere, that we'd be happy, you weren't just saying that were you?"

"Boone, stop, you know I wouldn't lie to you, she's not going anywhere. It's just…you know…the future's not carved in stone, I'm worried about you," she explained. It was true, Shannon wasn't going to leave him again, but the happiness that she'd envisioned for them had started to be tinged with hints of sadness, and surprisingly enough, it had its roots in him. "You're not taking care of yourself properly are you? Jack told us all goodnight for you, said he'd sent you to bed, and Shannon and I sat up after everyone left, she told me what's been going on."

He looked ashamed, though all he'd really tried to do was be everything for everyone, not wanting to let anyone down and disappoint them. It was what he'd been doing his whole life. How could giving of yourself so much, make you feel so embarrassed, and like you'd let _everyone_ down? "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's just you, but you don't have to try so hard, you've already got everyone's respect and approval, it's okay to say no sometimes, don't sacrifice yourself for everyone else." She knew he'd endlessly try too hard, attempting to earn the approval from others that he'd never gotten from his own mother. Claire stopped herself from going down that road, not wanting to cry in front of him for the sad, lonely little boy he must have been. No wonder he'd fallen in love with his step-sister, all Shannon had had to do was show him even marginal kindness.

"Boone?" Andrew was standing at the foot of the stairs.

He smiled at his son, "Morning bud." Claire greeted him too, not surprised when he responded to her question about Aaron, that Andrew had left him sound asleep. He came over to the counter to see what his dad was making before announcing that he was hungry, and that in answer to Boone's question, no, he couldn't wait till breakfast, he was a growing boy.

Boone fished around in the fridge and came out with a container of sandwiches, shrugging he held them out. "You want me to eat a tuna sandwich for breakfast?" he leaned around his dad, eyeing the container of cakes.

"No, I want you to eat eggs for breakfast, the sandwich is to tide you over 'till they're ready, and don't even think about asking for a cake." Boone warned, going back to the cutting board.

Claire hid a smile, Boone was so great with his son, correcting without making the boy feel bad, all kids should have it so good, like Boone himself, but that was in the past and couldn't ever be changed. She pulled a mug out of the cupboard and poured it half with tea, as Andrew got the milk from the fridge and topped it up, going to sit at the far side of the kitchen table so he could face them, and removing the lid from the Tupperware.

"So what did I miss last night?" he pulled out a sandwich, sniffed at it and took a bite.

Boone turned and leaned back against the side counter to face him, Claire pushed up against his left side, holding her mug in both hands; he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. "Well…" she started.

Andrew started snickering, "Charlie did what?"

She pursed her lips in annoyance, "Andrew, if you're going to ask a question, please have the good manners to wait till I have a chance to answer before responding." She sounded so prim they both started chuckling, she persisted in telling him the story he'd already picked out of both their heads.

"He's asleep on the couch," Boone remembered.

"Charlie?" she was momentarily confused, she'd left him snoring loudly in bed.

"No, Sawyer." He clarified.

"Well after what happened, I couldn't very well turn him out, and besides he'd had a lot to drink, I didn't want him driving. He was still pretty pissed after he came down from showering, it was a good thing he had an overnight bag in the car, Jin fetched it for him, so he had a change of clothes. He was still drinking when Shannon and I came in here to talk. I hid his car keys just in case he got some brilliant idea to leave during the night." She reached in the pocket of her robe and put them on the counter.

Shannon stood at the bottom of the stairs watching the three of them, thinking about how differently things could have turned out, how much like a family they looked. Andrew had been aware of her approach and gave her a look out of the side of his eye and shook his head marginally. She smiled at their private thought and came into the kitchen, "Morning fellow Craphole Islanders," she greeted.

She kissed Boone and Andrew, and, for good measure, Claire's cheek as well, before pouring herself a cup of coffee. For someone who didn't drink the stuff, Boone made a mean brew; she sipped it appreciatively before taking up a position on his right side. He slung his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Abruptly something shifted in him, holding his two favourite women, his son in front of him, he came to a sudden decision, keeping it to himself for the moment. They all sensed a change and looked at him inquiringly. He tightened his hold on both of them, and smiled in relief. "I'm gonna do it." He slipped away from them and moved so he could see them all, a happy smile on his face.

"You're going to run away and join the circus?" was Shannon's guess.

"Sky diving instructor?" Claire teased.

"Basketball player?" Andrew threw out.

Boone glared at the last one. "Funny, very funny, when you don't grow past five-nine remind me to make fun of you too. No, I'm going to go into the catering business."

"Boone, you're already _in_ the catering business." They all reminded him.

"I mean full time," he turned to Shannon. "I love it, I really do, I know I don't have any training, and I don't know if I'll have enough business to make it a full time thing, but…"

"What?" she interrupted, "Boone, I turn down jobs for you from as far as fifty miles away, you've got no idea how much business you don't get because I act as a buffer between you and total pandemonium. The only reason you're as overworked as you are, is because some go around my back and contact you directly. But honey, you've got to think about this, you're already in a Chernobyl sized meltdown."

"I know, I know, things have got to change, I've got to make some adjustments. I'm going to offer Joan my job at the store, make her general manager. Then I'm going to find a place, away from the house, where I can set up proper facilities, _and_ I'm going to hire some staff." He finished, holding up his hands at the objection on her face.

Shannon studied him; she knew he really liked the whole cooking thing. There was no reason it wouldn't work, and even if it didn't, it wasn't like either one of them really _had_ to work, there was just the whole disappointment thing, and how crushed he'd be. She had no doubt that the business would take off, she was just worried about how he was going to cope, and that she'd have to tell him to wind it down or he was going to end up a basket case.

"It's perfect, you should absolutely do it." Claire nodded in certainty, moving forward to kiss him, pulling him into a hug. "It'll work out smashingly." She added, pulling away and smiling up at him.

"Sounds great Boone," Andrew smiled, if it made his dad happy, and Claire sure seemed to think it would, then it'd be great.

"Shan?" he waited for her response.

"On one condition, I want to be your marketing director, and I want business cards, and I want my own office. Well, okay three conditions, I've never _had_ a real job before; I'd like to work for you, if that's okay." Now she waited for his response.

"No, it's not okay." Her face fell, "We'd work for ourselves. This business has got to be as much yours as mine." She smiled even wider than before.

She spit in her palm and held it out, "Deal."

Boone looked at her outstretched hand, disgusted, Andrew and Claire just laughed. "Boone," Andrew prompted, "spit in your hand and shake on it."

Grimacing the whole time, he did as he was told.


	5. Andrew and Aaron

Shannon hated to do what she was about to, but there was unfinished business, and she didn't want it hanging over her head any longer than it already had, she already felt guilty that she'd known since yesterday. They'd been excitedly discussing his idea for about half an hour now, but she'd kept glancing at Andrew, who was pointedly refusing to meet her gaze. "Boone," she interrupted, "Andrew had something he wants to tell you."

Boone caught the tone of her voice, this isn't going to be good, he surmised. "What?"

Andrew threw her a look, wondering why now, when Boone looked so happy, happier than he'd looked in weeks, why spoil it? He wondered if that's why she'd chosen now, so he'd feel guilt not only for what he'd done, but for spoiling Boone's high point.

He looked at Boone, working his mouth, but no words coming out. Claire suggested they go into the small sitting room that adjoined the kitchen, they headed across the room and Boone closed the door behind them. Shannon looked both apprehensively and sadly at the closed door, not wanting to be either of two inside that room right now. The guilt that Boone was going to feel at the news that Andrew knew the truth, being matched by Andrew's guilt at how he came by the information. Claire stood uncomfortably for a moment, before making up some excuse about checking on Charlie, and leaving the kitchen.

Shannon sat back down at the kitchen table, cradling her coffee mug in her hands, staring blankly at the contents.

After about fifteen minutes the door opened, she looked up, immediately noticing that they'd both been crying.

Andrew turned to Boone, "I'm sorry," he sobbed.

"Me too," Boone hugged him briefly before the boy turned and fled across the kitchen and up the stairs.

She crossed the room to her husband, and pulled him into her arms. He hugged her, breathing deeply and slowly, trying to calm himself, a hitch in his breath every now and then, but she could tell that he wasn't actually crying any more.

He pulled away from her after a minute and went to sit at the table, crossing his arms on the surface and resting his head against them. Shannon fetched him his cup of tea and sat across from him, reaching out to stroke his head.

"How long have you known?" came his muffled question.

"Yesterday in the car," she continued to run her fingers through his hair.

He sat up in the chair. "How did you react?"

"I was driving, and then you started having that nightmare, I didn't really get a chance to react all that much. I just told him we both loved him, that Sydney might have been a mistake at the time, but we were never sorry we had him." She looked at him sadly.

"And what about what he did? Breaking the house rules like that?" he waited for her answer, still looking betrayed, like a puppy who'd fetched a ball when told and then received a smack on the nose for his efforts.

"Like I said, I didn't get a chance, I didn't do, or say anything about it," Shannon shrugged in apology.

"I don't know what to do, he needs to be punished, but I'm at a loss here." Boone knew they'd been right in not revealing his somewhat inauspicious conception to Andrew, but it still felt wrong to discipline him.

"Boone, didn't you ever eavesdrop when you were a kid? When there was something going on that you felt you needed to know about, but everyone else thought that you were just too young to know?" Shannon frowned a bit like she was remembering some circumstance from her own childhood.

"When my dad was dying," he grudgingly admitted his own transgression. God she thought, he's so precious, after all this time he still looks guilty about it. She wondered if they'd canonize him at some point, Saint Boone, she laughed to herself, then reconsidered, she may consider him God's friggin' gift to humanity, but he was all too human at times.

"Me too, with my mom," She stared at a spot on the table, remembering. "Maybe just carrying around the guilt for the last six months has been punishment enough?" She suggested.

"I don't know." Boone shook his head, shrugging, then coming to a decision. "If I look at him all hurt and let down, he'll just avoid thinking about what he did, so he can _not_ think about why he made me look that way. _But, _if I act like nothing ever happened, then he'll think about what he did all the time, wondering why I haven't done anything about it."

She breathed a little laugh at his logic, "You're pretty smart, aren't you?"

"I raised him by myself for six years, I learned a little bit about how he thinks." He smiled, still a touch sadly.

Andrew ran up the back stairs and threw himself on the bed in the guest room, hugging Boone's pillow against his chest, crying into the fabric of the pillowcase. Once he calmed down a bit, he sat up and carefully put the pillow back in its' place, before leaving the room. If one of his parent's decided to come up to shower and change, he definitely didn't want to find himself alone in the same room with either one of them right then.

He headed down the hall to the room he shared with Aaron. The other boy was still sound asleep, so he flopped down on the foot of Aaron's bed hoping for a reaction. Not getting one, he repeated the motion until Aaron sleepily stirred and woke.

"What happened to you?" he asked seeing Andrew's red-rimmed eyes.

"I got in trouble with Boone," he sniffed. He would never have let one of his friends from home see him this vulnerable, he got picked on enough for being a nerd as it was, he couldn't afford to be labelled a cry-baby as well. But this was Aaron, as close to a brother as he was ever going to get, and the only person his own age who'd be able to understand the situation.

"You never get in trouble," he responded, surprised. "What'd you do?" Suddenly interested, he sat up, pushed himself up the bed and leaned back against the headboard.

"I listened in on their conversations in their bedroom when Shannon first got back." His head lowered, he glanced up from under his brows to see Aaron's reaction.

His eyes widened, "In your head right?" Andrew nodded. "That's pretty bad. Did he ground you or anything?" This time getting a shake of the head in response, "Did you find out anything good?"

"Yeah," he knew Aaron didn't mean good as opposed to bad, but good as in juicy, because what he'd found out certainly didn't fit into the first definition.

"What?" Aaron leaned forward a little.

"Oh just stuff," he shrugged, off handedly. The little tidbit of information he'd picked up was certainly nothing he wanted to share, _especially_ with Aaron, not knowing if the other boy was aware of his _own_ dubious existence.

"Oh," he leaned back, disappointed.

"You bring friends home to play?" Andrew changed the topic.

"Yeah, of course," he frowned at him like Andrew was an idiot. "Doesn't everybody?"

"I don't," he answered in a small voice.

"Why?" Aaron frowned again.

He'd brought friends home all the time when it was just Boone and he, but with Shannon back on the scene, things had changed. He could just picture the look on one of his friends faces when they went in the den to watch TV and found the two of them in one of their frequent lip locks, or came in the back door to the sight of Shannon sitting on Boone's lap, his hands buried in her hair, so caught up in each other they weren't even aware of their entrance.

"Your folks kiss like that in front of you? Ew gross," was Aaron's observation.

Then there was the whole ESP thing. Boone had been pretty strict about its' use, with few exceptions insisting on verbal communication only, but Shannon was a rule breaker by nature, and he'd noticed that the rule was being stretched farther and farther each day. What would one of his friends think if they suddenly started spouting seeming non-sequiturs?

"And most of my older friends have a crush on Shan," Andrew said. "They're always asking if they can come over to the house, right after they ask if my mom's home."

Aaron was starting to wonder if he gave the gate keeper the message from the ogre; would it get him past the monster so he'd reach the next level in the video game they'd been playing yesterday? He may have been chronologically older than Andrew, but mentally he was far, far younger, more actually ten than Andrew was anywhere near nine and a half, after all he had Charlie as his role model, while Andrew had Boone, and their whole mind link. There was no doubt that Charlie was much less serious than Boone.

"And half the girls in the school have a crush on Boone. The last parent/teachers night, the first one Shan's been to, when we went through the halls, it was like they were super models or something, everyone turned to look at them, I know they're both good looking, but gah!" He rolled his eyes. "And I think my English teacher for this year has a thing for my dad, in the interview she kept giggling." He hung his head, "God, it was _so_ embarrassing."

Yeah, Aaron was pretty sure that was the secret, the gate keeper just needed to be given the message. He looked over Andrew's shoulder at the computer.

"But I'm not actually embarrassed by them," he rushed to add. "Well, except for the whole kissing thing. I think they're really cool, actually. I really like them both. Of course I love them both too, but I really like them. Shan's so totally not the mother type. And Boone's just a really great guy." He realized that he'd completely lost Aaron and gave up on trying to explain the complexity of his relationship with his folks. Quickly reading what the other boy was thinking, he nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, the message, we should try that." They both scrambled off the bed and started the computer, rapidly becoming absorbed by the game, Andrew's earlier concerns completely forgotten.

Sawyer pushed open the kitchen door, "Where's that fuckin' Oasis wannabe?"

Boone looked up, and Shannon turned in her seat at the sound of his voice, rising to give him a kiss. "Now Sawyer, that was last night, you'd both had too much to drink, let it drop."

"Dick head," he muttered, then spied the pitcher, "that Bloody Mary's?"

Boone nodded. "You make 'em?" Boone nodded again. "You're okay, Metro," he complimented Boone, not bothering to apologize for slamming him into the wall last night. He turned to get a glass from the cupboard, and filled it from the jug. Sipping, he nodded and smiled, "just about perfect. You're one fine bartender, boy." Boone didn't bother to point out that the "boy" was now thirty-two.

Claire showed up with a bleary eyed and less than chipper Charlie, who also poured himself a glass of the tomato juice, vodka and spices combo. He silently took a seat at the table, well away from Sawyer, who grinned at his obviously hurting host. "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?" He'd had even more to drink than Charlie, but, like he'd once informed Boone, who, at the time, had been in the same state as Charlie, he was a professional, and had years of practice.

Boone popped the cork on the champagne and made Mimosa's for himself, Claire and Shannon, then started on breakfast.


	6. Unexpected Company

They headed home in the late afternoon, Sawyer had left right after breakfast, making some excuse about having to be somewhere for work. Right like the guy had some kind of gainful employment, not fucking likely, Boone thought. He was probably just using it as an excuse to get out of helping with the dishes, which nicely enough, Shannon and Claire had taken care of; telling Boone that, as he'd prepared everything he got to sit this one out.

There had been a gift exchange at the party, the gifts not actually opened, but just exchanged, intended for reveal on Christmas morning. So they piled a bunch of brightly wrapped packages in their now empty trunk. Shannon had distributed the baked goods that Boone had made for everybody, before the party broke up the night before, standing in for him after Jack had sent him to bed.

Boone turned into their driveway, only to find not just Sawyer's car parked there, but a strange car as well. What the fuck, he wondered?

"Did you invite him to stay?" he asked Shannon.

"Not me," she denied.

"Fuuuck," he groaned.

The back door was unlocked; there were dishes out on Boone's formerly pristine counter, and a bottle of red wine, the cork lying beside it, still stuck on the cork screw, a small puddle of the deep red liquid staining the counter top, he rushed forward to wipe it up. Shannon realized that she could hear music coming from down the hall.

"Jackass," Shannon muttered, removing her coat and heading for the den.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" they could hear her yell.

"You didn't tell me you were married," came a female voice.

"She ain't my wife." Sawyer protested.

"You wish," Shannon retorted. "You're fucking cheating on me in my own house?"

Boone started smiling.

"You ain't my wife, she ain't, Sheila." They could hear Sawyer verbally scrambling.

"It's Shirley." The other woman replied.

"Our son and my brother are in the kitchen right now, I'm sure they can hear every word. How fucking humiliating is this?" Shannon yelled.

Boone smiled even wider, oh yeah; she was on a roll now. Go get 'em Shan.

"But…no…this is….aw fuck." Sawyer sputtered.

"Sawyer, it's over, we're through." They flinched at the sound of her slap.

"Sawyer? You told me your name was James!" There was the sound of another slap, not as hard as the first one; it must have been the other woman, because Shannon usually put her whole shoulder into it.

"Sticks?" he sounded desperate.

"Don't you fucking "Sticks" me, asshole." She hit him again.

Boone grinned at Andrew and leaned back against the table crossing his arms across his chest, enjoying the night's unexpected entertainment.

"Fuckin' stop hittin' me, for Christ sake," Sawyer pleaded. "I'll fuckin' hit you back Sticks, I'm warnin' you!"

Boone knew the threat was an empty one, not only would Sawyer never hit a woman, but only a madman would ever hit Shannon, her bark was pretty intense, but her bite was even worse, and Sawyer was many things, but a madman wasn't one of them.

"I am so fucking out of here. You're disgusting." They heard footsteps drumming up the hall.

A woman passed in front of them, busily doing up her shirt. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she rushed out the door in embarrassment.

Boone and Andrew started laughing.

"You bitch!" Sawyer followed Shannon into the kitchen.

"I'm a bitch? You were making out on my couch!" She turned to him. "What are you, like seventeen?"

"I got needs," he seemed to suddenly realize that Boone and Andrew were standing there, and then, even though he'd been talking to her, he suddenly wondered what Shannon was doing there as well. "I, uh, I thought all 'a you guys were stayin' at Mamacita's till tomorrow."

"Then you weren't paying attention, we said at breakfast this morning that we were coming home today." Shannon shot back.

They looked at each other for a second, then a slow smile spread across both their faces.

"Damn, girl, but you were good in there." He flipped a nod in the direction of the den. "I could 'a used you back in the day." He stopped being pissed off and regarded her with admiration.

"I was pretty swift on the uptake, wasn't I?" She smiled back. Boone was a bit jealous at how easily they connected.

"We could 'a fleeced…" he started.

"Okay, then," Boone cut him off, not wanting them to go down _that_ particular road in front of Andrew. "We're good here, right?"

They both nodded.

"So how'd you get into the house?" he was curious.

"Damn, boy, you gotta stop bein' so predictable. A key under a flowerpot?" Sawyer regarded him with contempt.

Fuck I'm an idiot, he thought. "But there's the alarm system," he protested.

"Yeah, well, when I tried 4, 8, 15, it just magically disarmed itself. Course I would 'a tried 16, 23, 42 after that, but I just didn't need to." Sawyer smiled, smugly.

Asshole, Boone thought.

"Sawyer, what are you doing here?" Shannon asked him.

"Thought you could you a little down home charm over Christmas, I got nowhere special to be, so's I just thought I'd spend it with my favourite family." He smiled at the three of them.

In bed that night, Boone pictured the coming week, Sawyer sprawled on his couch, Sawyer sitting at the table waiting for his food, Sawyer asking when his laundry was going to be ready. God, he hadn't wanted much for Christmas, but he was pretty sure Sawyer hadn't been on his list.

Shannon started laughing quietly against his shoulder, 'It won't be that bad, I'll find something for him to do, and Andrew will help to keep him busy I'm sure. We'll try and keep him from being too big a nuisance to you.'

'It was going to be our first Christmas back together. I just wanted you to myself.' He tightened his arms around her.

'Boone, he's got nowhere to go, I read him, you know I can do that because of all the time we spent together, he kind of imprinted on me, like with you and Hurley. I don't want him to be alone at Christmas. Come on, we can't ask him to leave.' She appealed to him.

'You know very well that I won't turn him out, I was just feeling a little sorry for myself, I don't want him alone at Christmas either.' He shrugged, 'We're going to be pretty busy in the new year, ramping up the new business. I just wanted some alone time with you.'

'We're alone now,' Shannon pointed out, raising her head off his shoulder and smiling suggestively at him.

'Good call,' he kissed her, then trailed more kisses down her neck, he was just moving to her breast, when the door rattled in response to the fist that had pounded against it. Boone flopped on to his back, fake crying in exasperation.

"Hey, guys? There's no clean towels in the linen closet, that's where you kept 'em last time I was here, you move 'em on me Metro?" Sawyer called from the other side of the closed door.

They started whispering to each other like characters in a bad sitcom.

"He's stayed here before?" she asked.

"Yeah, duh? I told you I called him to explain things to Andrew." Boone reminded her. "And he's been here a few other times too."

"Okay, asswipe, fuck, shoot me for forgetting."

"Fuck off."

"Shut up."

"Make me," Boone was starting to laugh at how ridiculous they sounded.

"Idiot," Shannon sniggered.

"Look, he followed you home, you deal with him." Boone said, referring to Sawyer like he was some stray kitten she'd brought home with her.

"Technically_ we _followed him home." She pointed out, then sighed. "I'll do it tonight, tomorrow, if he needs anything, it's your turn." She grabbed his jaw and kissed him, thrusting her tongue down deep into his mouth, teasing.

He clutched at her as she got out of bed. "Hold that thought," he smiled.

Sawyer pounded on the door again, "Sticks?"

She pulled on a robe, "Hold your water Sawyer, I'm coming." Oh, shit she thought as soon as the words were out. That was probably not the right thing to say, he'd immediately put that last word in a sexual context, and sure enough his next words proved that.

"Well then, if you're comin', I'll just wait till you're done." He remarked, snidely.

She pulled the door open fast, startling him. "You are such a pig."

Their conversation was cut off as she closed the door.

Boone waited in the dark, lying impatiently in the bed waiting for her to get back, annoyed that they'd been interrupted. What was taking her so long, he wondered after about five minutes? He was just about to get up and find her, when the door opened and Shannon let herself back in. She dropped the robe on the floor as she crossed the room, and slid naked, back into bed with him.

'What took you so long?' he inquired.

'You're not going to believe it,' she started. 'He wanted a drink of water.' They both started snorting with laughter over how juvenile it made Sawyer sound, not that the way the two of them were laughing elevated them much above that moniker either.

When the laughter petered out, they finished what they'd started earlier. Boone pushed the blankets back, kissing and nipping down her body, his mouth finally reaching its' intended destination.

He was already gone when she woke up the next morning. She just hoped that he'd heeded Jack's warning and had gotten more than just a couple of hours sleep.

After showering and dressing, she knocked on Sawyer's door. He'd made mention last night at dinner that he wanted to do some Christmas shopping. Boone had tried to convince him that it wasn't necessary for him to get them anything, but hadn't been the slightest bit successful in changing the mans' mind. Besides which, Sawyer pointed out, what made Boone think he'd get anything for _him_ anyway?

After knocking for a third time, she finally heard groaning from behind the door, and went in at his invitation. He was still lying in bed, on his side facing the door, the covers pulled up right over his head, only his face showing. He opened his eyes slowly, "What the fuck you wakin' me at the crack 'a dawn for?"

Shannon reminded him about the Christmas shopping, pointed out that it was almost nine, and informed him that she was leaving at ten, with or without him. As she turned to leave the room, to repeat the whole procedure with Andrew, hopefully without the swearing, she heard him throw the covers off.

Downstairs she headed to the commercial kitchen, knowing she'd find Boone in there. "Hey baby," She greeted him.

"Yeah," he replied vaguely, completely immersed in whatever it was that he was concocting at the moment.

She was instantly pissed; no one ignored her, or only paid her half a mind. "Boone," she snapped.

He jerked his head up at her tone, and met her eyes, looking startled. "You want to try that again?" She suggested.

"Morning, Shan." He smiled a bit nervously and came over to kiss her, wiping his hands on a towel.

"What time did you get up?" she asked him after they'd kissed.

He reassured her that it hadn't been the middle of the night, and that he'd actually only been at it for a couple of hours. He was expecting Terry in about an hour, then he'd take some time to ask Joan if she wanted the promotion he had planned for her. He was sure hoping that she'd not only say yes, but also consider it a pretty special Christmas present. He asked Shannon if she thought he'd be out of line if he also cut the woman a small slice of the business, or at least offered her some kind of profit sharing bonus.

"Boone, why are you asking me about a business decision?" Shannon asked a little mystified as to why he was after her opinion. "You always make those yourself, you know more about it than I do."

"Shan, you're going to have to get used to it. I can't do all the cooking _and_ make all the decisions once we start the new venture. I'm just trying to get you used to it. You're going to have to step up to the plate here. I'm really going to need you to adapt to the new role you're going to have to assume." He explained.

It suddenly hit her just how much he was going to be relying on her. She sat down and looked up at him a little dazed. "I'm really going to be making a lot of big, important decisions for both of us, aren't I?" He smiled, she finally _got_ it. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Boone, what if I fuck up? I've never even _had_ a job before. I'm not going to know what I'm doing. You're the one with the degree in business administration, all I know how to do is…._nothing_, not a damn thing, no one's ever asked me to do anything!" She could feel her heart racing, her breath catching in her chest.

"Don't trot out that old chestnut, I've asked you to do plenty of things. You took care of Andrew when I went away this summer." He reminded her.

"Yeah and look how well that turned out. I almost blew up the barbecue, we destroyed the back lawn, the cops brought him home, I ran over his bike and tore the mirror off the van," she held up her hand and ticked the items off on her fingers as she listed them.

"And you guys bonded, and he told you he loved you," Boone finished.

Shannon ignored what he said. "We're going to have employees, people who rely on getting a paycheque every week. I'm going to be responsible for their livelihood, oh, God!" The more she thought about it, the more overwhelmed she became.

"Hon, don't freak yourself out. I _am_ going to be here, we're going to work on this together. I just need you to know that you're going to be playing a major part in this. It's not going to be easy for me to relinquish control and have someone else making decisions, but I figure if it's got to happen, the only person I'm likely to let make those decisions is you." He smiled at her, reassuringly.

Sawyer suddenly appeared at the door. "Fuck Sticks, me 'n Einstein been waitin' in the kitchen for you for the last five minutes," he tapped his watch impatiently. "We goin' shoppin' or not? Mornin' Metro," he added.

"Hey, Sawyer," Boone acknowledged.

"Yeah, coming," she breathed deeply, took one last look at Boone, kissed him, and followed Sawyer out of the room.


	7. Shopping with Sawyer

Out in the driveway, Sawyer unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel. Shannon opened the passenger door, put one foot inside the car, and pulled it out again just as quickly. He leaned across the seat and looked up at her. "What're you doin?"

"I'm not getting in that car, Sawyer." She responded, decisively, crossing her arms.

"Why," he asked, bewildered, "It ain't more than a year old. There's nothin' wrong with it."

"It smells like it's the last bastion of legal cigarette smoking in all of California, and that every chain smoker in the state uses it for an ash tray!" Shannon exclaimed. "If I get in that thing, I'm going to smell like I suddenly took up a three pack a day habit. And, Jesus, Boone's going to scrub me down like that shower scene in Silkwood, before he'll let me come to bed tonight."

"It ain't that bad." Sawyer protested.

"Christ Sawyer, you can barely see out the windshield, it's all distorted and disgusting from all the built up smoke. You'd have to run it through a car wash three times with the windows open before it'd even become marginally acceptable." She turned quickly to Andrew, who had just arrived at the car, having forgotten something in his room, "Do _not_ get in that car." She snapped. He snatched his hand away from the door handle like he'd thrust his hand in a nest of vipers, and suddenly realized what he'd done.

"Why?" he asked.

Shannon gave him a look that immediately made him regret he'd questioned her. "Yeah, _so_ not getting in that car, good call Shan." He back pedalled.

They compromised on taking Boone's car, and, after putting up with a bit of male posturing, Shannon relented and let Sawyer drive.

They tagged along with Sawyer as he browsed through store after store, not sure of what he was after, and not wanting to ask them what they wanted. He really didn't have a lot of experience buying Christmas gifts; most of his Christmases had been spent with this best friend Jack, as in Daniels, not Sheppard, that was for sure. It was kind of sad really, Jack would gladly have had him stay for Christmas. Though not one of Sawyer's biggest fans, like Boone, he wouldn't have wanted the man to have to spend Christmas alone.

When they stopped for lunch, he finally decided to throw in the towel, and appealed to Shannon for help. She'd been watching his growing frustration, but knew if she offered assistance he'd get all offended and refuse. Then they'd end up wandering through the purgatory of the pre-Christmas mall buying frenzy, unproductively, until just before the place closed. Shannon figured that at that point he'd end up desperately buying them all packs of gum, or fuzzy bunny slippers, or some other last ditch effort useless gift, though the thought of Boone wearing fuzzy bunny slippers kind of amused her.

She led him back through the mall to a store that carried a line of clothing that they all liked. She picked out a few items for each of them, and shoved them into his hands. When he went to pay, she picked out a few things for him and sent Andrew with her credit card to a different checkout register, wanting to surprise Sawyer on Christmas morning.

"What you got in the bag there Einstein?" he asked Andrew suspiciously, when they met up again outside the store.

"I forgot to get some stuff for Boone," he shrugged, lying through his teeth.

"Well now, we wouldn't want to have Metro ruinin' Christmas by cryin' 'cause you forgot him, now, would we?" Sawyer reached out and ruffled Andrew's hair.

Back home, after Shannon brought some wrapping paper, tape and scissors to the dining room, and closed the door leaving him alone to deal with his purchases, she went to find Boone.

He was huddled with Terry in one corner of the small commercial kitchen, obviously trying to explain to the kid how he wanted something done. He turned to her in response to her greeting, looking a little frustrated.

"Just do it the way I showed you, okay? You've just about got it." He patted Terry on the shoulder and smiled at him in encouragement. She loved watching him deal with people, he was so good at getting what he wanted without being pushy or seeming condescending. He crossed the room to where she stood at the entrance.

"Hey lover," she slid her arms around him and kissed him, speaking quietly as much to keep their conversation private, as not to disturb Terry.

"Hey babe, how was shopping? Did he rob any convenience stores or anything?" Boone kissed her back, leaning into her, letting her support his weight a bit. He'd been on his feet since five that morning and it was starting to get to him.

Shannon pulled back and frowned at him a bit, suddenly worried about him, he picked up on it immediately and straightened, smiling a lot more brightly than he felt. She shook her head; who the hell did he think he was that he figured he could mask something from her?

She suddenly wondered if he'd even bothered to eat anything that day.

"I had some breakfast when I got up, but, uh, I kind of gapped it on lunch." He confessed in answer to her unspoken question.

"You're an ass, you know that?" She informed him, "And, no, he didn't rob any convenience stores. Where do you get this stuff? He's not some petty criminal."

"No that's right; he's just a con artist and a murderer." And a royal pain in the ass, Boone added silently.

"Yeah, well, between the two of us, we've pretty much got both of those covered too, now don't we?" Shit, why'd I have to bring _that_ up, she cursed herself.

Boone just looked at her, hurt, his brow furrowed. He hadn't thought about that in years, what he'd been forced to do. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, not wanting the images to form, but being unable to stop them.

"Come on," she redirected his thoughts, "I want you to see what we got him for Christmas."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the room. He called back over his shoulder to Terry, telling him to keep doing whatever it was he'd been about, and followed her obediently.

Up in their bedroom she closed the door and pulled the bag out from under the bed. Boone sat on the side of the bed and watched her with a smile on his face; she was so excited about the gifts she'd gotten for Sawyer. It wasn't so long ago that she'd been all about what she was going to _receive_; it said a lot about how much she'd changed that now it was more about what she was going to _give_. He loved her so much.

She looked at him sharply. "I know that, I love you too, you dumbass."

She pulled a couple of long sleeved thermal tee-shirts in bright green and hunter green out of the bag. "I thought they'd go really great with his eyes." She enthused.

She noticed his eyes? Boone thought a bit uncomfortably.

She was too intent of the contents of the bag to pick up on his brief flicker of jealousy. "These'll look fabulous on him, with his long legs." Shannon was holding up a pair of boot cut jeans.

How did she know his size? He wondered, while imagining all kinds of off colour reasons.

"And I know he likes wildly patterned shirts," she pulled something out of the bag that looked like a small child who had eaten some vile breakfast cereal had thrown up all over it.

Boone winced, "Nice, Shan." He hoped he sounded convincing.

"And this, he'll love." It was a denim jacket with a cord collar, lined in bright red plaid flannel.

"You did great hon," he assured her.

"You think I got him enough?" Shannon looked a little uncertain.

"Shannon, the guy invited himself for Christmas at the last minute, I think if we got him a pack of Life Savers, it'd be more than he was expecting." Boone ventured.

"I guess," she conceded.

"Come here," Boone ordered.

She went over to the bed, holding his shoulders, she climbed into his lap, straddling him linking her arms behind his neck, and asked, "What?"

"He'll like everything, especially spending Christmas day with you." He put his jealousy away, there were better things to spend your energy on he figured.

"_I'll_ like spending Christmas day with _you_." She answered, losing herself momentarily in his incredible grey eyes; then kissing him.

"No Shan, I've got work to mpfff," his objection cut off as she kissed him again. They fell back on the bed, nature taking its' course from there.

She propped herself up on her elbow, and wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow, his breathing was still a little ragged, he looked a bit dazed and sex-stupid. Their clothes were everywhere, the sheets thick with the odour of sex. "Can't beat a little afternoon delight," Shannon commented, trying to get her own breathing under control, she'd played him again, he was _so_ easy.

"No, I guess you can't." He grinned. "Christ I stink of sex, I'm going to have to shower before I go back to work, I don't want Terry to think…Oh fuck, Terry! I left him alone like half an hour ago. Shit!" Boone scrambled out of bed and headed for the door.

When he got back she asked him if he'd talked to Joan yet. "Fuck! Shit! Damn!" She took that as a no. "Okay, for Christmas? I want a home cloning kit, or more hours in the day, something like that." He pulled on his clothes and hurried from the room. She lay back against the pillows for a minute before getting up to shower herself.

She was standing in the kitchen, getting plates and silverware out for supper, hoping that Boone remembered that the rest of them liked to eat three squares a day, even if he was a scatterbrained idiot and forgot meal times. And just _when_ was he going to come and get dinner ready, she was wondering, when Joan came in, a folded piece of paper in her hand and a stupefied expression on her face. She pulled a chair out from the table and sat.

"Joan?" Shannon asked.

She continued to stare at the surface of the table. "Joan?" she tried a little more forcibly.

The woman finally looked up. "Huh?"

Shannon frowned, "You okay?"

"He wants me to run the place." She replied staring off into nothingness.

Shannon kind of knew what she was going through, having had the same kind of epiphany herself when she realized the breadth of her new roll in the planned catering business, that morning. She laughed, "He wouldn't have asked if he didn't think you were up to it. My brother's not an idiot." Shit, after the party, and with Sawyer there, she'd gone back to referring to him as her brother. That was just _too_ many kinds of awkward. "Boone, I mean. Boone's not an idiot."

"No, I know. It's just a little overwhelming. This was just supposed to be a _job_ not a career. I mean, the kids are in high school, they don't need me at home, and my husband and I thought it'd be nice if I did something with my time. So I figured, after Boone hired me, that this was perfect. Now he wants me to run the place and for this kind of money, and a bonus!" She waved the paper in the air. "I haven't had a job in almost twenty years, now suddenly I'm management?"

Shannon sat and smiled at the woman. "Join the club of Boone Carlyle's stunned employees," she said, though he'd made it clear to Shannon that she wasn't going to be working _for_ him, but _with_ him. "He dropped a bomb on me today too." She went on to share her thoughts on what he had planned for her with respect to the new business.

"Ah," Shannon suddenly exclaimed, and grabbed her left wrist, Andrew, she thought vaguely.

"You okay?" Joan queried.

"No, I don't know, I guess so, ow." She continued to rub at her wrist.

Boone pushed through the door holding his left wrist as well, "Where's Andrew?"

"He went to Kevin's." She frowned at him, suddenly realizing why they were both holding their wrists.

She pushed the chair back and stood in alarm. "No."

"I'll find him." He grabbed his car keys from the hook and hurried out the back door.

Joan sat, frowning at Shannon wondering what was going on. She'd always been aware of an undercurrent of weirdness surrounding her employer and his fellow survivors, but there'd really been nothing she could put her finger on.

Sawyer came in next. "Somethin's happened to Einstein." He stated.

"You feel it too?" Shannon was almost in tears, Joan's presence completely forgotten. "Boone's gone to find him."

"Hey, Sticks, calm down. Ain't nothin' serious," He tried to reassure her.

"How the fuck would you know?" she rounded on him.

"I ain't your enemy here Shan, I didn't do nothin' to the boy," he spoke calmingly. "Probably ain't nothin' more than a broke wrist."

"I've never broken anything in my life, how bad does it hurt?" She was trying to stay focused.

"Well, now, Puddin', I ain't never broke anythin' neither, but Metro has, he broke his leg, and he lived through it." He reminded her.

"No Sawyer, he _died_ through it, _and_ Jack almost cut it off before Boone stopped him." She corrected.

Joan was sitting quietly, just absorbing the absurdity of it all; she was so stunned she probably couldn't have made her legs work to carry her out of the room even if she'd wanted to.

"Yeah, he died, but he came back, and it all turned out okay, now didn't it?" He was holding her shoulders, trying to keep her looking at him.

"See, that's my girl." From Joan's point of view, he started talking to himself.

"I know you are," he pulled her against his chest.

"Okay," He let her go, and tipped his head smiling at her.

Shannon caught sight of Joan off to his right, the woman's eyes wide. She pushed away from Sawyer, shaking her head, "Oh no, no. You are _not_ sitting there, you are _not_." She tried to make herself believe that the entire incident hadn't played out in front of someone.

Sawyer turned around, and groaned, smacking himself on his forehead in frustration.

Joan looked from one of them to the other, "I…I…I didn't see anything. I'll just go now." She started to push her chair away from the table. Sawyer's hand came down on her shoulder.

"Now, girl, that's where you're wrong," Shannon shot him a look. "I think there's a bit of a story, you gotta hear first."


	8. The Hospital

Boone found his son less than half a mile from the house, in a stretch of road with no houses, not much time had passed, so no cars had come by yet and the boy was still alone. Andrew was huddled on the curb, holding his left arm across his chest, cradling it in his right, his bicycle lying in the road in front of him. He stopped the car right in the middle of the road and threw the door open leaving the engine running, he crossed the asphalt quickly.

He crouched down beside the boy, "Andrew?"

He raised his head, his face was pinched and white, more fear reflected on it than misery, his eyes were dry. "Daddy," his face collapsed and he started to cry.

Boone pulled him into his arms carefully; the pain the boy was in washed over him, making him feel slightly nauseous, he rocked him gently. "Ssshhh, it's okay, it's going to be okay," he reassured him.

A car pulled up, the power window on the passenger side hissed down. "Everything okay here?" the man behind the wheel asked suspiciously, you never knew when someone was trying to abduct a kid.

Boone looked up, "Yeah thanks," he smiled and nodded. "My son fell off his bike."

"This your daddy, son?" The man asked.

Andrew raised his face, sobbing, "Yeah."

The man couldn't mistake the resemblance, "Okay, then, just checking."

"I appreciate it," Boone said sincerely, there weren't enough concerned citizens willing to get involved these days, he thought.

The window slid back up and the car drove off.

"A cat," Andrew blurted, sniffing.

"Huh?" Boone wasn't following.

"A cat ran out into the road, I almost hit it. I grabbed the brakes and fell off. I…" he bit back a sob, "I think I hurt my wrist."

Boone had to agree with that assessment. "Yeah bud, you sure did."

"I'm sorry, Boone." Andrew apologized.

"Why?" he asked.

"I screwed up, you just bought me that bike. I think I bent the wheel."

Boone shook his head, "It's okay, and no, you didn't screw up, it was an accident, they happen. Just ask me, they happen to me _all_ the time."

Andrew shot him a look, "Yeah, they do." Now it was his turn to agree. They shared a brief smile.

"I think we need to get you to a hospital, I think you've broken it." Boone assessed, referring to Andrew's wrist, shivering slightly in the chill of the early evening, he hadn't thought to grab his jacket before running out the door.

"I want to go home first, Shan's probably frantic, and Sawyer too, I guess." He figured they'd both probably picked up on it, at least that's why he figured his dad had shown up so quickly, he hadn't meant to broadcast it, it just happened.

"You sure? Cause I can just call on my cell and tell them what happened and we can be on our way from here." Boone waited for his answer.

"No, I want to see mom," Boone looked at him sharply, he'd never heard him refer to Shannon as 'mom', "and let her know I'm okay." he continued. "She's probably freaking right now."

'Mom and daddy', god we've turned into our parents, Boone reflected. No, he'd never once called Sabrina 'mom', and Shannon sure as hell hadn't, but she'd definitely called Adam 'daddy', and Boone thought that he might have done the same, he wasn't sure; the man had been so nice. How he'd fallen for Sabrina, he'd never been able to discern. He felt tears prick at his eyes, thinking how lucky he was that he'd ended up with the family he now had.

"You're such a sap, you know?" Andrew forced a smile at him through his tears.

"You weren't supposed to pick up on that." Boone frowned, then breathed a little laugh, and helped him to his feet.

He put him in the passenger seat, popped the trunk for the bike and drove home.

Shannon interrupted Sawyer's explanation to Joan of their time on Craphole Island in order to announce, "They're home."

She rose, crossed the room to the door and opened it, waiting.

"Oh baby," She pulled Andrew carefully into a hug. Boone shot Sawyer a look over her shoulder at the sight of Joan, still sitting at the kitchen table. Shit, she'd been there when he'd rushed out, what had she made of their strange behaviour?

Sawyer shrugged, "She knows. After what she saw, we had to tell her pretty much everythin'." He answered Boone's unspoken question, guessing that that's what the man was wondering.

Boone rolled his eyes, and groaned at the ceiling, thinking, 'Ten years, ten fucking years away from that godforsaken place, and _now_, _now_, they'd unintentionally revealed themselves to someone.' They'd chosen to inform Tom and Heather, after all, they'd been living with them so it would have been pretty hard to hide, and besides which, they were both so grounded that it really hadn't rocked their world at all. But Sabrina had remained in the dark, far too high strung to be able to deal with how much they'd been changed by their island experience. And now Joan knew. This was something he just didn't want to deal with right now, but he figured he didn't really have a choice.

He walked over to the woman. "You okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm fine, I'm more than fine. I'll keep your secret for you. I can't say I won't tell my husband, but then, I know he'll take it to the grave. After hearing about the hell you people have been through, I'm not telling anyone. You can take _that_ to the bank." She reassured him.

"You're good people, thanks." He nodded a little shyly.

"So are you," she said, simply. "Andrew, okay?" she looked to where Shannon had seated him at the table.

He shook his head, "Broken wrist I think."

"Kids heal fast." She offered. "I'd better get back out front," This was a private family matter; there was no need for her to be there. "Terry probably wants to get back to whatever it is you've got him working on. And Boone, thanks for the opportunity." She indicated the piece of paper.

He smiled and nodded, turning back to his family as she left the room.

Shannon was wiping Andrew's tears with a tissue, Sawyer standing beside her, holding a bottle of peroxide and a cloth. Given his track record, Boone kept first aid supplies in quite a few places in the house; Sawyer had probably gotten those from the downstairs powder room. Andrew had torn the knees out of both pant legs and had abrasions not just there, but on the palms of his hands as well. Boone got a towel from a drawer and a gel pack from the freezer and put them on the table beside the boy's arm. Working cautiously, he folded the child's jean jacket sleeve up and laid Andrew's wrist on the gel pack, knotting the towel around it, securing it loosely.

"You ready to go have that taken care of?" Boone asked him.

He nodded. The cold was helping to take the edge off the throbbing.

Boone grabbed his leather jacket, and his bag, stuffing a couple of bottles of water and a few more gel packs into it. Shannon offered to go instead of him, knowing how much work he had to do, but before Boone could refuse, wondering why she could possibly think that work would come before their son, Andrew spoke up, saying, no, he wanted Boone to go. He didn't say so out loud, probably not even realizing the reason for his choice, but he needed the authority figure that Boone represented to him, a feeling of security more important right then than the buddy role that Shannon filled.

Shannon's attempt to not feel slighted was helped by Sawyer's offer to stay and keep her company, a ridiculously over played dirty grin on his face.

"Pervert." She remarked, smacking him on the shoulder.

They left after Boone promised to call with updates.

He drove at a reasonable pace the 45 minutes to the hospital, it wasn't like the wrist was going to break any worse and he didn't want to jostle Andrew any more than was necessary. He turned the radio to Andrew's favourite station, and uncapped a bottle of water for them to share. Boone told a bunch of stories about Sawyer to pass the time, and give the boy something to else to think about, he'd heard most of them before, but that still didn't diminish their amusement factor.

At the hospital they sat in emergency waiting for a doctor, a clip board on Boone's knee, neatly filled out with Andrew's information, all of it recalled from Boone's memory, he was a stickler for details, and easily memorized the most important ones.

God, but he hated hospitals. Having _actually_ died once, and _almost_ died several times after that, albeit by his own hand a couple of those times, he'd developed a pretty healthy aversion to members of the medical practice, Jack aside, though. He kept glancing around nervously, decidedly on edge, after all one of those times had actually been in this same hospital, when he'd had that strange fever. Andrew, sensing his father's unease, had reached over across his body a few times, patting Boone's arm in comfort. The irony of the gesture wasn't lost on either one of them.

It was like fate, Boone reflected, he'd refused to come to the hospital last week for stitches when he'd gotten the glass stuck in his leg, but here he was anyway.

He called home on the pay phone in the corner. There were warnings all over the place about the use of cell phones, something about the possibility of them interfering with the delicate patient monitoring equipment. Sawyer answered on the third ring. "City Morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Boone responded dryly, wondering if the guy was, like, twelve. "Shan there?"

"She's otherwise occupied right now," he answered in a mysterious tone.

Fuck, Boone so wasn't into playing games right then. "Sawyer, is Shannon _there_?" He asked again.

"She's pretty close, but then so am I," he groaned, as if in pleasure, typically twisting Boone's question and attributing a sexual spin to it. "Honey, stop that, it's your husband."

"Sawyer, honest to fucking god, I am so not in the mood for this! Let me speak to my god damned wife this second, or I swear I'm going to kill you!" Boone was reaching the end of his patience.

"Jesus Metro, she's in the can, hold on." Sawyer sounded annoyed.

He heard tapping on a door, a muffled exchange, then Shannon asking, "Boone?"

"He's a mad man!" Boone exclaimed.

"Who?" she asked.

"Sawyer, who the fuck else, Jesus!" he replied. He went on to give her a status update, really all they'd done was sit in the waiting area; there wasn't much to convey.

Andrew flipped through a magazine, awkwardly holding his left arm protectively against his stomach. He'd had it balanced on the arm rest, trying to hold it up a bit to minimize the throbbing, but a small, unsupervised toddler had been running like a raging wildebeest through the room and had lurched against the chair, grabbing at the arm in an attempt to stay on his feet. He'd latched onto Andrew's fingers and tugged hard on his hand, sending bolts of agony through him, and by extension, Boone too. Andrew had squealed in pain, and immediately looked like he was going to pass out, throw up, or both. Boone's head had snapped back, smashing into the pillar that was behind his chair, the force so strong that it almost caused him to black out. He'd been understandably furious, and, after assuring himself that Andrew was going to be as all right as he could be, given the circumstances, tracked down the offenders' slacker parents, berating them in a cold, calm, disgusted voice. They'd stared with wide eyes at the imperious persona Boone was projecting and corralled their rampant offspring.

Hours later, it was finally their turn, Boone followed Andrew into the curtained off area to which they'd been directed, his hand, comfortingly, on the boy's shoulder.

When the doctor finally joined them, he took the clipboard from Boone and asked Andrew a few questions. Boone figured he was just assuring himself that the boy's injuries weren't a result of child abuse. He stood beside his son quietly; trying not to look nervous, even though he had absolutely nothing to be nervous about, he was a bit jumpy by nature though, so he hoped he didn't look at all guilty. He guessed he'd passed the test, when the guy patted Andrew on the head, and told him to be more wary of cats, especially black ones crossing his path when he was riding his bike.

After x-rays confirming the break, Andrew chose the blue colour for his cast. The doctor warned him, before he straightened his wrist, that it was going to hurt. Boone instantly blocked Andrew's thoughts out of his head, picturing the scene: him lying on his back on the floor, after the jolt of pain hit him, the doctor, in amusement, asking Mr. Carlyle if he was okay to continue. He held his son's hand, flinching when Andrew whimpered, the boy's grip tightening.

After getting a card with the date and time for an appointment in the fracture clinic, and some painkillers, the exhausted pair left for home.


	9. Shannon and Sawyer

After they left for the hospital, Sawyer got the whiskey out of the cupboard, while Shannon went to inform Terry that Boone had left and wasn't coming back anytime soon, so he should wrap up whatever it was he was working on, clean up the kitchen and head off for the night.

When she got back he'd already poured a couple of drinks for the two of them, figuring she definitely needed one. Shannon thought about the fact that she hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, so was downing a good sized shot of whiskey really a wise choice?

"You hungry? She asked, sitting at the table.

"I'm _always_ hungry," he smirked.

"Jeeze, Sawyer, is everything with you always about sex?" she shook her head, then held up her hand, "Don't answer that."

He laughed, "Yeah, Sticks, I'm hungry. What've you got?"

"Whatever you're going to make us, you know I can't cook." She rolled her eyes.

"We'll let's just see what Metro's got in his fridge." He pulled open the door, and stuck most of his upper body in the appliance, "Jesus, Fish Sauce, what the hell is that, Cilantro Paste, don't the boy got any _normal_ food? Ahh!" he sounded triumphant. He emerged with a container of eggs in one hand, and a loaf of homemade bread in the other. "Scrambled eggs, toast and bacon?"

"Bacon?" Shannon repeated, laughing.

"Yeah, you know, little strips of pork meat, nice 'n salty, great with eggs and toast?" he clarified, unnecessarily.

"You actually think, in that tiny little pea brain of yours, that Boone allows us to have bacon?" She laughed again, "Nitrates, fat, salt," she listed the negatives, her mouth almost watering at the thought of the forbidden food, "that it actually tastes great, and god damn do I want bacon right now. Thanks asshole."

"Well, Sweet Cheeks, let's go get us some, you got a store out front. You must sell it, even if it's like poison to Metro, he's gotta cater to the customers." He reasoned.

"I've got a better idea." She smiled and nodded, rising from her place at the table. "Come." She ordered, grabbing her leather jacket and car keys.

She pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road.

"Where are we goin'?" he asked.

"Grocery store." She replied.

"Darlin' you could 'a got bacon from your own store, you know that right?" he reminded her.

"We charge too much." She answered.

"_So_ it's cheaper to get in your car and drive who knows how far to the grocery store?" he frowned at her.

"Shut up." She turned onto a particularly twisty road, one that lead no where near the grocery store, and pushed her foot to the floor. The powerful sports car responded immediately, surging into the next turn. She started to regret that the top wasn't down, but it was December, even in California it was still cold at night. Fuck it, she decided, we've both got coats on, she pulled the car to the shoulder. Sawyer just looked at her in silence, as she pushed the button and retracted the roof. When it was down she pulled back on the road, pushing the car to its' limits again. He sat easily in the passenger seat, hands loose and relaxed in his lap, chuckling every now and then as the tires bit and screeched on the pavement. Boone would have been in panic mode by now, eyes squeezed tightly closed, hands clenched around door handle and armrest, breathing fast, pleading silently with her to slow down.

The thought of Boone brought her back to reality. She slowed down and pulled into a rest stop, parking under the lone street lamp. Turning the car off, she sat for a second before opening the door and getting out. There was a picnic table beside the light, she climbed up on the bench and sat on the table top. She put her face in her hands, as she heard the other door open and the approach of footsteps.

"You mind tellin' me what's goin' on here?" Sawyer asked her.

"I couldn't stay there, the empty house, with them gone, I couldn't. All I could think about was where they were going, and why." It wasn't really an explanation, but it was the best she could offer.

"You got it bad, Sticks." He commented.

"What?"

"All that time away, bet all you done was think 'a Metro, didn't you?" Sawyer sneered at her, but not maliciously.

"I thought about him, yeah," she allowed. Every minute of every day, she thought to herself.

"You fuck other guys?" He asked, nonchalantly.

Shannon was outraged, "You're a pig! And it's certainly _none_ of your business."

"So I'll take that as a yes." He looked at her calmly.

"Where are you going with this?" She lost her anger, more intrigued with where he was headed.

"Shannon, I never loved anyone or anythin' after my folks died, I didn't want to take the chance, but you girl, you and Boone, its true love, pure and simple." He drawled. "I guess I was always kind of jealous of that. When you left him, I couldn't figure it out. I'm a good judge 'a character, you gotta be, what I do, _did_, I guess." He corrected. "I couldn't figure out why you'd throw away somethin' other people only dream of. So I gotta guess, you weren't runnin' away from somethin' as much as you were lookin' for somethin' else, cause what you had scared the crap outta you."

"I told you on the phone, in the summer, why I left, I was too young, I wasn't ready." She reminded him.

"And you also told me that you'd always thought you hated him. When you realized that wasn't true, I repeat, it must 'a scared the crap outta you." He hadn't forgotten the conversation they'd had.

She hung her head and closed her eyes, "Yeah, a little. Well, maybe more than a little."

"The all wise '_they'_ say it's always the guys who're scared of commitment, half the time it's the women too, I think." He observed, looking down at the parking lot's surface. He looked back at her, "He know?"

She knew what he'd gone back to his initial question, "He knows," she confirmed. "I told him about the other men.

"And I'll bet he's okay with that, ain't he?" He posed the question rhetorically, but she answered it anyway.

"Yeah, he's okay with it." God he was making her feel so ashamed of herself, but she figured she'd earned it.

"He loves you more than you deserve, and much more than is good for him, you know that, right?" It was a statement, more than a question.

She closed her eyes, and shivered, the adrenaline from the car ride was starting to wear off, and the cold was seeping, insidiously, through her jacket. "I know." She wondered when he'd become so insightful.

He walked over to the table and leaned over, putting a finger under her chin and tipping her face up. They looked into each others' eyes; she thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her. "Love him back just as much." He smiled a bit sadly.

She took a jagged breath, close to tears, then tried to shake it off, "You turning into a romantic on me, James?"

He stood back and grinned, his dimples front and centre, the mood completely changed, the serious tone gone. "Always been one, Sticks, you just never noticed."

She shivered again.

"Come on, girl, let's get you warm." He held his hand out to help her off the table.

After they put the roof back up, she handed him the car keys, her need to push the envelope, live life a little bit on the edge, gone. He took them, then came around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, she smiled at the gesture. He slid behind the wheel and drove out of the rest area.

Shannon directed him to the grocery store, he drove the car competently, not that she was particularly surprised by that. In another life, she could have ended up with a man like Sawyer, maybe even Sawyer himself, she always had gone for men quite a bit older than herself, when she was still denying her love for Boone, that is.

He pulled into the grocery store parking lot and killed the engine. The bright lights of the store grated on them a bit, after the darkness of the drive and the subdued lighting of the rest area. They got the bacon and Shannon stopped in the soft drink aisle to grab a bottle of mix for the whiskey. He grimaced at the thought of ruining perfect good booze, by diluting it with pop, and they headed for the checkout.

Sawyer stood staring at the cover of one of those trashy tabloids, reading about some two headed alien baby or mutant rabbit, Shannon figured, while she watched the cashier scan their purchases. Fuck, she thought, he probably believes those ridiculous stories.

He sensed her scrutiny and glanced at her, "You believe the crap they try to make people believe, Christ." He shook his head and went back to scanning the magazines.

She laughed; sometimes she forgot that the hillbilly image he wrapped around himself, only served to mask the depth of his intelligence.

"You husband's very attractive." The girl behind the counter ventured, blushing furiously

How the hell did the girl know Boone? Shannon wondered, before realizing that she meant Sawyer. "Yeah, he is." She looked at him, tall, well built, his long blonde hair hanging in his face, the killer dimples and the, oh so sexy, southern accent. While she appreciated all his attributes, they did absolutely nothing for her, the only man she'd every truly wanted was much shorter, with brown hair, and to die for grey eyes. She suddenly wanted to go home very badly indeed, hoping, futilely she realized, that they were back by now.

They rushed in the back door to the sound of the phone ringing, she asked Sawyer to answer it while she ran for the bathroom. He tapped on the door after a few minutes, "Metro's on the phone." He called through the door.

She couldn't quite make out his words, but figured it might be Boone, she hurried to finish, then pulled open the door, "Who?"

"Your husband, he's in a bit of a mood." He had the phone pressed up against his chest.

"You said something, didn't you?" she took the phone from him, "Boone?"

He wandered away in the direction of the kitchen; she followed as she received the non-update from the hospital.

"They're still waiting," She informed him as she entered the kitchen. He was already starting to get supper started. Evidently an adept observer, he knew were Boone kept all the relevant kitchen equipment he needed to prepare their meal. She put his glass of whiskey on the counter, close to him, then dumped hers into a bigger glass and added ice and mix.

She sat at the table, watching him, the two of them making conversation easily. When dinner was ready he served it unceremoniously and pulled up a chair, shovelling the food in like it was his last meal.

After doing the dinner dishes, they moved into the den, turning the TV on to some sappy old romantic comedy. They had a few more drinks and some coffee, Sawyer's wasn't anywhere near as good as Boone's, but Shannon wasn't going to say anything about that, they watched the movie and commented on it snidely.

Boone let himself in the back door, Andrew in his arms; he'd fallen asleep almost before they left the hospital parking lot. He sniffed the air, was that bacon he smelled? Someone had been cooking, and, since the house hadn't been burned to the ground, he figured it couldn't have been Shannon. He was glad that Sawyer had thought to feed them. Some frying pans and dishes were stacked in the drain rack by the sink, there were two plates, he noted.

He could hear the TV from the den, but wanted to get the boy settled before anything else, so he headed up the back stairs to Andrew's bedroom.

He knelt down on one knee, and draped Andrew's legs across his other knee as he pulled the covers back, then laid the boy on the bed. He undid his shoes and pulled them off his feet, followed by his socks. They'd cut most of the way up the sleeve of his jacket and hoodie before applying the cast, Boone briefly considered getting some scissors and finishing the job, but thought that it could really wait until tomorrow. Besides, he really didn't want to run the chance of waking him up, so he figured he'd just let him sleep in it. Andrew had been more than just a bit upset at having his favourite coat ruined, but Boone had reassured him that he'd definitely buy him a new one. He did pull the ruined jeans off him, though, before getting some extra pillows from the chest at the foot of the bed. He placed them by his left side and carefully elevated the broken wrist, then pulled the covers over him.

He kissed him on the forehead and silently wished him a peaceful sleep, then headed back down stairs. He stopped in the kitchen long enough to get himself a beer, then went down the hall to the den.

As he entered the room, he was more than a little perturbed to see that Shannon and Sawyer were sitting on the couch, she had her head on his chest, his arm was around her shoulder. Sawyer caught the movement in his peripheral vision and looked quickly at Boone, putting his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

Boone smiled, and moved around the coffee table to look at her face, he was amused to see that, in her sleep, she was drooling a little on Sawyer's shirt. He put his beer on the table, and looked at Sawyer, 'You want me to take her upstairs?' he pushed the words at the man, not sure if it'd work or not, after all his relationship with Sawyer wasn't that close. Sawyer's eyes widen a bit as he got them, he looked at Boone in consideration; they both appeared a little surprised.

He shook his head, and pushed her up off his chest, then moved around in front of her and picked her up easily. He nodded his head for Boone to precede them upstairs.

In their bedroom Boone pulled the covers back, chuckling a bit to himself at the repetition of the action as, for the second time that night, he put one of his family members to bed. Sawyer laid her down on the sheets and kissed her forehead before he left the room. She was already bare foot, so Boone just pulled off her jeans and covered her. Leaning down he kissed her in the same spot Sawyer had, then left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Back downstairs in the den he thanked Sawyer for sitting with her for the evening, and for feeding her.

"Yeah, boy, that was a real hardship, sittin' with a beautiful woman for a few hours. I should get overtime pay for that." He responded, smiling at Boone.

They both fell silent, watching the TV for a bit.

"She loves you," Sawyer suddenly said, apropos of nothing.

"Huh?" Boone asked, stupidly.

"Your sister, Shannon, I mean," he clarified, "she really loves you."

"I hope so," he closed his eyes, frowning, not wanting to let Sawyer see his insecurity.

"Damn, boy. When you gonna wake up and smell the coffee?" Sawyer asked.

"I can smell the coffee, James, I'm just a little afraid to drink it is all." Boone decided to come clean.

"You gotta stop this, Boone. You're not some pathetic sixteen-year-old with a crush, and I don't think the rest of us are prepared to go through another one of your meltdowns with you." Sawyer warned.

"I know." He said simply. "She's been back six months now, and Claire says she's not going to leave me again. Sometimes I just let myself get too worked up about it." He looked up at Sawyer, "I'm not going to make it, if she leaves me again." He admitted.

"She's not going to." He responded, decisively.

They just looked at each other for a few seconds.

Boone took a deep breath, "I'm going to bed, see you in the morning." He rose.

"Night, Metro." Sawyer went back to watching the idiot box.

Halfway down the hall something occurred to him, and he turned back around, "Bacon?"


	10. An Ordinary Day

In the upstairs bathroom, as he got ready for bed, Boone considered what he'd said to Sawyer in the den. He didn't like to dwell on it, for obvious reasons, he was pretty certain, logically, that she was back for good, but sometimes affairs of the heart weren't exactly logical, but strictly emotional, and he was certainly more emotional that most guys. She _did_ love him; he was as certain of that as he was of his own name, but then she'd loved him when she'd left him, too, so it wasn't about that. God, he had to stop this, he was going to drive himself crazy, and he'd already proven once that he could certainly manage to do that without too much trouble. He pushed it from his mind and crossed the hallway to their bedroom.

When he slid between the sheets; Shannon rolled over and snuggled up against him automatically. He was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, but still, all he wanted to do was sleep, his body had other ideas however. He found that he was hard, the feel of her pressed against him, even still mostly clothed, making his hand want to reach out and touch her. His right hand snaked across his body, and he stroked her breast through her tee shirt. She moaned in her sleep, not completely waking, but not fully asleep any more either. He kept up the motion, watching her face in the ambient light that shone through the uncurtained window.

Her breathing got heavier, and she moaned again. Her eyelids flickered briefly before she asked, "Aren't you tired? You, really want to have sex now?"

"Seems like," He replied, covering her mouth with his and sliding his hand up under her shirt.

They had sex, not just once but several times, it was like the end of the world was approaching and they only had so much time left. He wasn't sure if it was a reflection of the emotions and events of the day they'd just had, or just that somehow they'd turned into sex fiends. She whimpered into his hair, as he pulled her, again and again, against him. In the end, she was lying face down, pillows under her hips, he was draped across her back, buried deep inside her, his hand trapped, where she'd guided it, between the pillows and her body, when they finally fell asleep.

Quiet tapping at the door awakened him, "Guys?" Andrew called.

Boone roused himself, realizing the incredibly compromising position he was in. "Baby, wake up." He slid his hips backwards, pulling out of her.

The motion caused her to awaken, frowning, "No," she moaned.

"Shan, honey, Andrew's at the door, wake up, it's morning." God, they hadn't slept like that in years, entangled in one another like lovesick adolescents. He lay by her side.

"Boone?" She was trying to clear her sleep fogged mind.

"Yeah, it's me, who the hell else did you expect?" He asked in amusement, then quickly willed her not to answer that.

"God I love it when we do that." She commented, thinking about what they done before they'd fallen asleep, her eyelids fluttering.

"I know, but it takes me forever to get you to relax enough, it's truly frustrating." He watched as her eyes blinked open.

"Boone?" Andrew asked, outside the door.

She pulled the pillows out from under her hips and handed one to him, putting one up under her head as she rolled over, "Yeah, Andrew, come on in." She hoped they didn't look too sex-stupid.

The door opened, he was still in his underwear and jacket from the day before. "I want to have a shower, but I can't get my clothes off, and my arm hurts." He was holding his left arm up across his body. He looked at them strangely, they looked even more odd than usual, and they often looked pretty odd when he knocked on their door on a random morning, he didn't even _want_ to think about what they might have been doing. God, were everyone's parents so strange?

"Okay, bud, I'm coming," Boone slipped out of the bed and put on his boxers, smiling at him and crossing the room. He pulled the door shut behind him after shooting her a look of panic; Andrew hadn't exactly looked like he hadn't suspected something.

They went downstairs where he grabbed a pair of scissors out of a kitchen drawer and finished sawing the sleeve off the boy's jacket and hoodie, then gave him a couple of the painkillers that the doctor had given him from the night before. Back up in the ensuite off Andrew's room, Boone helped him take off the remnants of the jacket and duct taped a plastic bag around his forearm. The cast stretched from the second joint of his fingers to just short of his elbow.

Boone looked at the boy, this wasn't going to work, he thought. "You're going to need help, aren't you?"

"Huh? Why?" he asked.

"Well, you've only got one functioning arm, so how are you going to wash your hair, and yourself?" He raised an eyebrow.

"This is so embarrassing." He moaned.

"Tell me about it, you think it was easy having Sun bathe me for a couple of weeks after I broke my leg? _That's_ embarrassing." Boone offered. "Come on it'll be easier in our bathroom."

They headed down the hall. The shower stall in the main bathroom was much larger than the standard bathtub one in Andrew's room, so it only made sense. Boone reached in and turned on the water; they both took off their underwear and entered the enclosure. Truth be told, it really _was_ kind of embarrassing, they were both feeling pretty awkward.

They were almost done; Boone was just rinsing his hair when Shannon pulled the glass door open, "Boone, I…"

Andrew squealed and ducked behind Boone, who was startled and almost fell as he spun towards the door, not sure if it was the unexpected opening of the door or the boy's sudden outburst that caused him to jump. He was relieved to see that she wasn't naked, preparing to shower with him, after all it _was_ a common occurrence. Andrew was already embarrassed enough about having Boone shower with him, without seeing his mother in the nude.

"Oh, sorry, guys, I thought you were alone, Boone." She commented. She smiled at Andrew, "How's your arm today?"

"Uh, it hurts," He winced at her, trying to figure out why she'd attempt to carry on a normal conversation, given the circumstances. "But couldn't we do this some other time, like when I've got clothes on?" He remained hidden behind Boone.

"You guys havin' a party in here?" Sawyer appeared in the doorway.

Since when did showering become a public activity, Boone wondered? Sure Sawyer had seen them both naked enough on the island, but that was over ten years ago, and really was part of a completely different existence. He was starting to get a little peeved.

Shannon turned and started to answer the man. Boone cut her off, "Okay…the audience? Not working for me so much. You _might_ want to consider leaving." He suggested.

Shannon looked a little startled, huffed and left. Sawyer turned to go then glanced back, looking at Boone's chest, narrowing his eyes a bit, "You still got some 'a them scars. I would 'a thought they'd be gone by now."

"Most are, it's just the worst ones that still show. I'm sure your scar is still there as well." He nodded at the guys left shoulder.

Sawyer's hand automatically slid up to the spot of the old gunshot wound. "Yeah, it ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon."

"Um, nice memories?" Andrew said sarcastically, "But I'd kind of like to finish in here."

Sawyer breathed a laugh and gave a lopsided grin, pushing himself off the doorjamb he pulled the door closed.

Boone and Andrew looked at each other, "Lock," they said simultaneously. Neither one would forget to do _that_ to the bathroom door tomorrow.

Boone helped him dress, then fetched an oversized bandana he remembered seeing in the bottom of a drawer, making a sling out of it and knotting it behind the boy's neck. He assured him that it was only temporary, pretty soon, most of the pain would be gone and he'd not only not need the sling anymore, but he'd most likely adapt and figure a way to shower and dress himself, for the most part. He ruffled his hair and sent him on his way.

Seeing as how Shannon was in the shower when he went back to the bedroom to dress himself; he figured she'd bitch at him later about how he'd dismissed her from the bathroom earlier. He sighed and then headed downstairs to work.

Terry was already there, and had things laid out. He was as quick a study as Boone had expected, he was happy that he hadn't lost his touch when it came to judging people. He apologized for bailing the night before, and the two of them dove right in.

Andrew came to get him at lunchtime, sent on the errand by Shannon. Boone invited Terry to join them, waiting to see what he would say. He had a huge and completely obvious crush on Shannon, though he probably thought he'd hidden it okay. He looked a little wild about the eyes, hesitating briefly before accepting. Boone just hoped that the kid wouldn't embarrass himself too badly, he'd been an awkward teen at one point too, and remembered having more than just one crush where he'd ended up looking like an absolute moron at times.

As they headed down the hall, they could hear Shannon yelling at Sawyer. "You're absolutely ridiculous!" In the kitchen there was a Scrabble board out on the table, Andrew and Sawyer were playing.

"I ain't never heard that word before; I just want the boy to prove it's real." Sawyer reasoned.

"He's a kid, even if it's not, cut him some slack." Shannon responded.

Andrew had his hand in the air, mouth open, trying to answer, more than a little put out that Shannon would doubt his language skills, but the two of them continued to argue, ignoring the boy. Boone and Terry just stood there, watching.

"Stop," Andrew finally cut in. "Shannon, it's a real word, trust me, and James, of course I'll get the dictionary and prove it." Why did it seem as if he always ended up being the most adult?

Boone looked amused as Andrew brushed passed him, headed for the den to get the dictionary. He crossed the kitchen to start lunch, as conversation continued behind him.

Andrew came back and put the book on the table, awkwardly paging through it with one hand. "See 'yurt,' it's a Mongolian tent."

"Why the hell…" as Sawyer started, Boone tuned them out again, and focused on preparing the meal.

He put a salad and some freshly baked bread in the centre of the table and bowls of homemade chicken and pasta soup down in front of everyone.

"You kiddin' me?" Boone rolled his eyes and sighed, trust Sawyer to complain.

"What? Just what? What could possibly be wrong with this?" He cried in frustration.

"Soup? You want me to eat soup? That ain't a real meal. I need red meat boy. You been feedin' me nothin' but rabbit and dolphin food since I got here!"

Boone _so_ wanted to tell him to just _go then_, and remind him that he'd invited himself, but he settled for pulling open the door of the fridge, hauling out a brown paper wrapped package and tossing it on the table in front on Sawyer.

The man unwrapped it, looking at Boone out of the corner of his eye, as a large, well marbled, strip loin steak was revealed. Shannon and Andrew looked at it like it was manna from heaven. He was reminded of that old cartoon, was it 'The Simpson's?' he thought, where the guy drooled at the sight of a donut.

"That's Sawyer's supper, _we're_ having this," Boone informed the two of them, pulling a more cylindrical package out of the fridge. They recognized the shape of a fish instantly and frowned, looking disappointed they both slumped their shoulders. This guy _so_ has to get out of here. Boone thought, not considering that it was partly his own fault for catering to Sawyer and buying the steak in the first place. He put both packages back in the fridge.

It was that night that he got the phone call he was expecting. He was right in the middle of getting supper ready when the landline rang. "Hello?"

"Hello, Boone, dear." His mother simpered.

"Hello mother," he was tired and not in the mood.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" Yeah, like she cared, he thought.

"It's cool, I'm just getting dinner ready." He answered.

"Your _wife_ not do that for you?" She asked, snidely.

"Hanging up now mother." He responded, in a pleasant, happy voice, fuck he was tired of the games.

"Boone, no!" She cut him off.

"Okay, then, what?" he asked flatly.

"Well, I just thought that she'd probably learned to cook by now, that's all." Sabrina lied.

"She's thirty years old, if she was going to learn how to cook; she would have by now, besides, as you fully well know, I _like_ cooking." He responded

"Well, she's very lucky you agreed to marry her then, isn't she?" Typically she twisted things around.

"Yeah, whatever," he sighed.

"How's everyone?" She continued the social niceties.

He went on to explain about Andrew's broken wrist from the night before.

"Maybe he's too young to ride a bicycle?" Sabrina wondered.

"He's _almost ten,"_ Boone shot back in frustration.

"Is that young?" she sounded unsure.

He looked at the ceiling and wondered how she could be so out of it. "No, mother, typically ten year olds ride bikes."

"Well, just watch him, it seems like he's the only grandchild I'll ever have." She sounded put out, he didn't know why, she hated kids; no doubt it was just another opportunity at getting in a jibe.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." When was she going to get to the point?

"I have to go to Paris tomorrow, and I'll be gone for a week, so I can't come for Christmas." Sabrina informed him.

"Wow, that's just way too bad." He breathed a sigh of relief. No ice queen, busting his balls, yeah, like that really disappointed him. "What a total drag, 'cause Sawyer's here." The guy gravitated to money like white on rice; he loved being around Sabrina.

"Oh, what a shame, I'll miss James." She actually sounded a bit disappointed.

"I'll let him know that. You want to talk to Andrew?" He turned around; his son was sitting at the kitchen table with a book open in front of him, reading. His head came up at the mention of his name and he started to shake it, 'No.' he pleaded silently.

When his mother agreed, Boone silently handed him the phone, 'Sorry.' He apologized.

He pulled Sawyer's steak out of the fridge and started seasoning it, thinking to himself, 'First bacon, now beef, what next? Deep fried Mars Bars?' He suppressed a shudder at the thought.


	11. Christmas Day

Christmas morning dawned crisp, bright and cold. Shannon roused herself earlier from sleep than she was used to, mindful of the promise she'd made to Andrew.

She was draped across Boone as usual; she'd been alone when she fallen asleep after securing his promise that he wouldn't be too much longer. She hadn't bothered to determine what his interpretation of 'too much longer' actually was, but suspected that it was much longer than hers. She disentangled herself from him carefully, and dressed quietly, pulling the door shut softly behind her and heading downstairs.

When they'd decorated the tree a few nights before, she'd been amused by the rituals the two of them had developed in her absence. Andrew had automatically put a traditional holiday DVD in the player, and Boone had made hot apple cider, lacing hers and his with a shot of brandy. She almost felt in the way what with how automatic their actions were, but they were both careful to include her, asking her opinion often, besides which Andrew needed more than a little help from her what with only one functioning arm. Sawyer had just sat in a chair in the corner, a whiskey in his hand, making snide comments now and then, a contemplative look on his face, like this was something he wanted for himself desperately, but felt he didn't deserve.

It was an artificial tree of course; tree-hugger Boone wouldn't have murdered a fir tree for his own holiday enjoyment if the existence of the world depended on it. The decorations were plain and simple, mostly made of natural materials; wood, cloth, papier mache, and a few looked as if they'd come from flea markets and antique stores. She imagined the two of them bonding over a quiet Saturday morning treasure hunt looking for them. They'd been packed away the Christmas before, as carefully as Boone did everything, tissue paper wrapped around the most delicate ones, everything in well labelled shoe boxes. The lights were miniature LED hydro saving ones, of course. He'd made edible cookie decorations as well, strung with red silk ribbons; those had gone on last. She shook her head again at how casually amazing he was. When she'd complimented him, he'd ducked his head shyly and dismissed it in embarrassment.

It was such a Norman Rockwell, or Frank Capra stereotypical Christmas that she couldn't help but laugh. She figured it was compensation for how different her brother's Christmases had been as a child, and her own as well once Adam had married Sabrina. There was no homey family gathering, they'd just go to school in the morning, and arrive home to a fully decorated tree, the household staff having erected it according to Sabrina's instructions in their absence. There were never any toys in the impeccably wrapped packages under the tree, toys might lead to clutter, and clutter would definitely mar the perfection of the carefully contrived ambience of the house. Instead they got functional gifts, which were to be put away immediately after the last one was opened. She remembered her first Christmas there, when she'd run down the stairs and ripped into the first one after getting permission. Boone had looked at her childish abandon like he was going to cry, as he carefully pulled off each piece of tape and removed the wrapping, folding it carefully before opening the box to reveal whatever was inside. As she'd watched him hand Andrew another ornament for the tree, Shannon had suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes at the loveless upbringing he'd been victim to, and had gone to him just holding him, more for her own comfort than his. He'd murmured in her ear and rocked her, knowing exactly what memories it was that she was reliving.

She entered the den and plugged the lights in; the tree glowed with the subdued luminescence of the low voltage bulbs. She regarded it for a moment, thinking that everything about the set up was so very, very Boone, before fetching the snow board from its' hiding place. It was too big and conspicuous to wrap, so Andrew had asked her to hide it and bring it out Christmas morning to ensure the surprise.

After she'd stood it in the corner, her curiosity got the better of her and she started examining the brightly wrapped parcels under the tree.

Andrew from Boone, Shannon from Claire, Boone from Sun, she read the tags, going through package after package, shaking some, squishing others; trying to determine what everyone was getting. Boone had done his own Christmas shopping for gifts for both her and Andrew, after all he'd bought by himself for the boy for the last six years, so he definitely didn't expect her to do the traditional 'mother' type thing and buy a combined gift from them both, so she had no idea what he'd gotten him.

She stopped as she abruptly realized that she hadn't come across a single present that read to Shannon from Boone. He couldn't have forgotten her, could he? No, that was just absurd, he wouldn't have forgotten, and there was no way he would purposely not have gotten her something. She pulled away from the tree thoughtfully, intrigued.

No longer interested in her adolescent-type present examination, she headed into the kitchen, filling the kettle and putting it on the stove. She got his mug out of the cupboard and put it on the counter next to the package of tealeaves. The coffee was next, she got the beans out of the freezer and put them beside the coffee maker, he made the best coffee ever, so she wasn't going to attempt to try and make it herself, she was just trying to make things easier for him, he already did so much for her. He prepared their meals, did most of the housework, ran their business, well that last one was going to change significantly in the New Year, she reflected.

She wondered if there was anything she could pull out for breakfast, but as she didn't know what he had planned, she shrugged her shoulders and headed back up to the bedroom. Maybe there was something else she could do for him.

She stripped off her clothes and got back into bed, propping herself up on her elbow, looking at him. His dark eyelashes stood out in contrast to his pale complexion, his cheeks constantly in a state of light pink flush. She tipped her head and brushed her thumb across them, then tucked his hair behind his ears. He continued breathing regularly, seemingly not awaked by her light touches.

Boone had slowly become aware of her scrutiny, as it brought him gradually out of sleep, he continued to feign slumber though, enjoying the moment for a while before speaking without opening his eyes, "Just what the hell are you doing?"

Shannon chuckled, "Just looking at what's mine."

He kept his eyes closed, "So, now I'm your property?"

"That's what it says on your arm." She reminded him.

He opened his eyes, and grinned at her, "Yeah, I can't possibly imagine just _what_ I was thinking." He pulled his left arm out from under the covers and glanced at it, frowning a bit at the scars.

He was just about to stuff it back under when she reached out and grabbed it, sitting up she removed the bracelet, and pulled his arm towards her.

"No," he whispered, resisting.

"You're mine, shut up," she replied, softly. She looked at the marks; he'd once remarked to her, when all he'd had was the scars on his chest, that he was damaged goods, now he had these ones as well, and all of them because of her. She brought his wrist to her lips and kissed it.

"Don't, they're ugly, please, I was stupid, I'm always stupid when it comes to you." He pleaded quietly. "Shannon, stop."

"There's nothing about you that's ugly, Boone, especially not to me." She brought the other wrist up, and kissed it as well.

He moaned as if in pain.

She laced her fingers through his and pressed the backs of his hands to the bed, sliding onto him, she kissed the scars on his chest. They were almost invisible after all these years, unless you knew what to look for, which, unfortunately, she did, all too well.

She pulled back and looked at his face, he had his eyes squeezed shut, and was biting his lip, his brow furrowed. "You're never going to get Christmas morning sex, looking like that."

"Shan…" he started, sounding upset.

"Stop taking yourself so seriously." She ordered.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, taking a deep breath, he forced a smile. As she continued to smile back at him, his expression became less forced, and she could feel him relax. When she thought he was ready, she kissed him, he responded immediately.

"Let me love you, please," he pulled away and asked, after kissing her for a few minutes as their hands roamed each others' bodies. His sudden insecurity tied to her assertion that he was her property, his need to prove himself to her, somehow sad and pathetic.

She rolled off him onto her back and pulled him with her. "Boone, don't do this, you've been so much better the last few days; I thought we talked this out."

"I'm sorry, Shan. I'm such a mess. The holidays, I just get so fucked up. Please bear with me, there's a lot of shit going on in my head right now." They'd reversed their normal positions; he was pressed up against her side, his head on her shoulder, her arm around him.

"I know," Shannon responded, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He smiled and kissed her, smoothly sliding on top of her, her legs parting to accommodate him. They made love slowly, his thrusts against her measured and controlled. She sighed his name into his ear as she came.

"You folks decent?" the knocking at the door accompanied by a southern drawl.

Boone pulled away from her, and took a couple of deep breaths, composing himself before responding, "Sawyer, what are you seven or something you have to get us up at this hour?" He glanced at the clock; was only eight.

"So's that a yes?" He pushed the door open without waiting for an answer. Boone rolled off her and looked towards the door in exasperation. "Damn, thought I'd catch myself a little sight of the action."

"God in heaven, Sawyer, so now you're a voyeur on top of everything else?" Shannon shook her head.

"Ain't like it's nothin' I ain't never seen you two do before," he commented. "I'm hungry, boy," he complained, frowning at Boone.

They got Andrew up and organized themselves. Coffee and tea, and in Sawyer's case, rum and eggnog, in hand, along with a pre-breakfast snack Boone had gotten ready the night before, they made their way to the den.

Boone stopped in surprise, startled by the presence of the snowboard. He wondered if Shannon had gotten it for Andrew. "It's for you, Boone." Andrew corrected his misinterpretation.

He walked over to it, amused, and pulled it out standing it on the carpet beside him. "I don't get it."

Andrew explained his idea about a ski vacation over March break. His cast would be off by then, so that wouldn't be an impediment. Boone was enthusiastic, until he realized that an airplane flight would be involved. "I can do this," he thought, before heartily endorsing the adventure. Andrew beamed, bouncing a little on his feet in his excitement.

They each opened one gift, before heading back to the kitchen for breakfast. Boone made his incomparable French toast, even getting a little tipsy as he had a few Mimosas, and some brandy in his tea.

After breakfast, back in the den, they continued to open their presents. Sawyer was touched at what they'd gotten him, he didn't say as much, but when Shannon ghosted her mind over his, she could sense his pleasure.

"Well I guess that's everything," Boone announced, looking at the devastation spread around him, wrapping paper and boxes everywhere.

"Just a minute, numb nuts." Shannon spoke up.

"What?" he asked in feigned innocence.

"Where the fuck's my present from you, you asshole?" she demanded.

"I figured just letting you rejoin the family after six years away would be gift enough," he shrugged, getting a well-deserved dig in.

"And I figured having me back after six years would be enough of a gift for you, but I still got you some other stuff!" Shannon responded.

"Really? Some stupid books and jeans I could have gotten for myself? Woo hoo!" He shot back.

They continued to fight good-naturedly with one another as Andrew and Sawyer enjoyed the show.

After a few minutes Boone reached in the pocket of his plaid sleep pants and pulled out a small box. He held it out to her on his palm.

She looked a little frantic, "No, no, don't do this." She'd expected a gift, but suddenly felt her chest constrict at what she was sure was in the little box, it was too much, too extreme.

He held the ring box out to her again, "Take it, please?"

She was breathing a little raggedly, "I can't."

"You don't even know what's in it." He commented.

"Yeah, I do. God Boone, why now?" She clenched her jaw and bit back a sob.

"Because you deserve it." He answered.

She knew very well that she didn't, but squared her shoulders and composed herself. "Then I deserve a proper proposal."

"I'm sure you got one," he didn't sound really sure about that.

"No, I recall more of a statement, or perhaps an order, that's it…it was more of an order." She nodded.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked.

She looked at him, taking it all in, running her eyes over his perfect features, "No I'm not kidding. I've been told I've been in love with you since even before I acknowledged it. Women fought over you Boone, but you ended up with me. I'd really like to hear you propose."

He hadn't anticipated this; it had just been a gift that he'd thought she'd like. He remembered her talking about engagement rings and fairy tale weddings when they were kids, certainly nothing like what she'd ended up with, stuck with him. He still felt like she'd only settled on him because of the baby, even though he knew the depth of her love for him. He felt so selfish that it had turned out in his favour, well except for the six years apart and his suicide attempts.

He blinked at her a few times; then got down on one knee while Sawyer and Andrew watched. "Shannon Elizabeth Rutherford, I've loved you since I was ten, you're the mother of my son, and the only one in my heart, please do me the honour of remaining my wife." He opened the box and held it out to her, pulling back the lid.

A perfect solitaire diamond ring was revealed. She suddenly felt like a schoolgirl on a date with her boyfriend. She just stared at the ring, too choked up to respond, she hadn't _actually_ expected that he'd propose, even though once she'd asked, she knew he could deny her nothing.

Her shoulders heaved a bit at she looked at the ring, she bit her lip, "Of course, oh Jesus Boone, god how much I love you, of course," she continued babbling insanely as he knelt in front of her, smiling softly.


End file.
